Shifters
by TgCid24
Summary: The last few minutes of Lily Potter's life have unexpected consequences. HP/NT. Rated M for safety.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter or any associated characters/names, only my original plot.**

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Shifters**

**Chapter 1: The Prophecy That Binds**

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_"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...born to those who've thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies."_

_**The Evening of October the thirty-first, 1981**_

Godric's Hollow was a sleepy town nestled down in a basin in the glens of southern Scotland. Little to nothing important or exciting ever happened there, but tonight, if the tall figure shrouded in black had his way, something _very_ important - life altering, really - was going to happen.

Long strides and muffled footsteps carried him down the street, passing by oblivious muggles unseen and unheard. It would not do for them to see him. No, it would not do for a panicked, non-magical beast to ruin his plans.

Making his way to the other side of town with nary a soul aware of his presence, he turned up a quaint country lane. It disgusted him really, how these weaklings could have such an inviting home. Kicking one of the white cobblestones that lined the lane in a fit of pique, he fumed as silently as his temper would allow.

He deserved it far more than they did. He, who would make their world pure and habitable once again - Lord Voldemort, the immortal liberator of the Purebloods - was raised in a horrid, _muggle_ orphanage. The very thought of the place made him cringe.

Without so much as a sound, Voldemort strolled up to the sitting room window of the small, yet homey looking cottage that housed his target.

A peek inside showed him a young man with infernally messy, irritating black hair, bouncing a similarly coifed baby boy on his knee. A soft hiss of disgust escaped Voldemort's nearly non-existent lips. How could they expect their children to grow strong when they were coddled and babied so? How a baby raised to be a weakling by two other weaklings could ever hope to defeat him was, quite frankly, beyond his ability to grasp, but the prophecy said it would be, and Voldemort knew that he must keep his bases covered if his glorious plans were to succeed.

Refocusing his attention on what was going on in the cottage, he saw a beautiful young woman with shining, ruby-red hair sweep into the sitting room and pluck the boy from his father's knee.

"There's my Harry!" Voldemort heard her coo in a sickeningly sweet voice. The baby gurgled happily and clamped a tiny fist around her scarlet locks. "Has daddy been teaching you naughty things?"

"Honestly, Lils, he's our son," protested the black haired man, pouting at his wife. "How could you think I would even dream of something like that?" he asked, face carefully contorted into an innocent expression.

"Don't you lie to me James Potter," she retorted in a voice lacking any real acid, "I heard you and Sirius talking yesterday; a Junior Marauder's club indeed!"

James's eyes widened comically and he began to stutter out excuses, leaving Lily and baby Harry giggling at him.

Voldemort, were he anything so weak as to be called human, might have laughed himself at the scene, especially when the baby's continuing laughter resulted in a flash of light and his father writhing in uncontrollable mirth.

As it was, Voldemort stared in horror. The brat couldn't be more than a year old, but he was already doing focused bursts of accidental magic. A tickling charm.

The young couple, once James had recovered, seemed quite surprised as well, though judging from their smiles they were much happier about it than Voldemort. After a moment of stunned silence, they laughed again. This time, they swept their baby into a group hug with them.

"Did you see that, Lils?" James asked excitedly. "His first charm, and he's only a year old! He'll be a charms master, just you wait!" He paused and kissed the top of his wife's head. "Takes after his mum that way."

Lily blushed prettily and lightly slapped her husband's arm with her free hand. "Hush, you! Flattery won't save you," she said playfully.

Her husband answered with a roguish grin and a wink. Voldemort had to fight the urge to turn and vomit.

Baby Harry, unable to understand most of the words, but aware of the love and warmth radiating from his parents, began to chatter excitedly in a babbling language that only babies know. After a few seconds, he scrunched up his face as though in deep concentration.

"Oh no," said James, "it's your turn on nappy duty Lils."

She opened her mouth to argue, but got no further; her jaw was left hanging there. James and Voldemort found their mouths hanging open as well. The youngest Potter no longer had arms, he had large, black feathered wings. Stunned silence followed.

The two parents looked at each other and back down at their baby, who was now a grinning, two-armed toddler again. Voldemort felt a small stab of worry for the first time in a long time. Maybe this child really _could_ grow into a threat.

"Merlin! A partial animagus transformation; at one!" cheered James. Lily began to bounce her baby up and down on her hip while she hopped and skipped around the room.

"My baby's a genius, my baby's a genius, my baby's a genius," she chanted proudly as she cavorted about, Harry squealing excitedly in her arms.

"D'you know what this means? He can do it Lils! I know the prophecy said it could be, but now I can really believe it! He can beat him! Merlin he'll make a great Marauder, and just imagine all the girls that will be chasing him! The Slayer of You-Know-Who! With my hair and your eyes? He'll be beating them off with a stick!"

"James Potter! Don't you go perverting my son's mind with talk of womanizing..." Lily began to scold, though she seemed incapable of hiding the smile on her face, but Voldemort was no longer listening. He was storming around to the front door, preparing to show these fools who would defeat who.

How dare they? No one could defeat him! No one could best Lord Voldemort!

With a high pitched, maniacal cackle, he blasted the front door down.

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_"And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal..."_

_**Five Minutes Later.**_

Lily stood, trembling, whispering quiet platitudes to her son. How could things have gone so wrong? Everything was perfect in their lives until Dumbledore came along with his stupid prophecy!

Well, maybe not perfect, what with the Death Eaters and the maniacal Dark Lord and all, but they had each other and were no more a target than anyone else!

A silent tear trekked down her cheek, unnoticed. She was focused completely on her son's smiling face, watching him play with her hair.

Things had been so amazing in her last year at Hogwarts. She found herself the target of Marauder pranks - slightly modified, terribly romantic ones - and soon was undeniably falling for James - who had somehow managed to mature (if only slightly) under her nose. The one that ended with her unable to take a step without finding rose petals underfoot led to an intense snog, and, soon after, their very first date.

Lily was unable to control a sob, her heart broke when she heard the loud thump of a body hitting the floor downstairs; her head swam and her body shivered uncontrollably.

James was gone, that part of her life was over now. All she had left was Harry.

Her eyes locked on his. Bright curious pools of green, so like her own. The eyes of a boy who didn't understand that he would never see his daddy again.

Some deep, primal, and undeniable maternal urge took her. She leaned down and kissed her son's smooth forehead, willing all her love and pride into him, and suddenly she knew: He would never see her again either; she had to touch her baby boy for as long as she could. To tell him, in a universally understood way, that she cared for him, loved him, would never willingly leave him.

So absorbed was she in imparting her love to her child, that she didn't even hear the door to the nursery blast apart.

"Stand aside, stand aside girl," said a cold, high voice. Lily whirled, finding malevolent red eyes smoldering at her from the folds of a black hood.

"No, not Harry, please!" she cried, throwing her arms wide in a futile attempt to protect her child. "Not Harry! Take me instead!"

A terrifying laugh. A flash of green light. A thump on the floor. Lily Potter was no more.

Voldemort, murderer and torturer extradonaire, looked down at his predestined nemesis. The Dark Lord stared at the toddler for several seconds, as if attempting to see something that was only hinted at on the surface.

The boy, wondering who the ugly man was and when he could see more pretty lights, stared right back.

Finally, Voldemort spoke.

"Harry Potter."

Two words; two words that carried a malice that most human vocal cords were unable to purvey.

Another few seconds passed in which the tall, dark figure seemed to expect the young toddler to reply - to engage in witty repartee as it were - but, seeing that no conversation was forthcoming, he continued.

"I will end you tonight, Harry Potter, and in doing so, I will end any threat to my inevitable, eternal reign. I will end your life, and in the process, ironically, ensure that mine is everlasting," he gloated with a wicked smile.

The clear, curious green eyes continued to stare at him. This seemed to infuriate the man, if you could call him that. A deathly pale, rail-thin arm rose from the folds of his robes, revealing a long, twisted piece of yew. With an enraged outburst and a hissed incantation, the arm fell...

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"...but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not."

_**The Tonks Household**_

The comfortable, two story house was as calm as a spring shower.

Ted and Andromeda slept peacefully in the master bedroom, but upstairs, in her bedroom, her very own bedroom, eight year-old Nymphadora Tonks was in the throes of a nightmare.

Her hair was cycling through colors rapidly: pink to black, black to red, red to green, and green to pink, where it started all over again. Her small fists were clutching her sheets desperately and whimpers tumbled through her lips from time to time.

If her parents had been awake, they may have noticed the soft, emerald glow that bathed the house for a moment, but they were not. Had Nymphadora been awake, she would have been scared out of her mind.

As it was, in the dream, she was pretty close to that state already.

The dream had started so nice, with the fairy tale family. The beautiful red-headed princess, her roguish devil of a husband, and their insanely cute baby boy, all playing and talking and loving each other, but then something horrible happened. You-Know-Who came, and he was big and scary, and he talked too much. He killed the father, who died bravely for his family. He killed the mother, who died as any mother should, protecting her child. Then, he turned his wand on the baby.

Tears rolled down the sleeping girls cheeks when she saw the wide-eyed, curious gaze of the boy. She wanted to scream at him so badly to run, to hide, to do anything; _something_, and she felt an indefinable, boundless rage well up against the pale excuse for a man that wanted to hurt him.

Down the wand swept and a bright green flash illuminated the sneering, snake-like face under the hood. Her mind's-eye was blinded by a golden blaze of light and her ears were deafened by an agonized scream.

Awakened, too scared to even force enough air over her vocal chords for a scream, she looked around her room in a panic. She expected to see You-Know-Who standing over a crib. What she got was her empty, boring, and blessedly Dark Lord-less room.

As her breath came under control, a warm, fuzzy sensation washed across her mind and she relaxed into a deep, dreamless sleep.

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"And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives..."

_**Godric's Hollow - What's Left of the Potter Home**_

Albus Dumbledore gazed upon the residence of James and Lily Potter, valiantly fighting the urge to weep.

The house was missing most of it's top floor. The parts that had been blasted open left curling tendrils of smoke and charred piles of wood.

Too late. The wards had warned him far too late. The Potters were dead at the hands of Tom Riddle Jr.

He stepped gingerly through the ruins of the front door, hoping to retrieve the remains of his two friends and their young son for a proper burial. A sharp stab of emotional loss hit him when he saw the figure of James Potter sprawled on the floor in front of the stairs.

Kneeling, Albus examined him. Not a mark on him, though the surrounding area sported several scorch marks, gouges, and cuts. James always was an excellent duelist, it would appear that Tom had had to resort to the Killing curse before he even managed a hit.

Dumbledore heaved a world-weary sigh and gently closed the wide, staring eyes.

"Good bye, Mr. Potter, the world will seem a little dimmer without you around," he muttered, his voice thick with emotion.

Stepping over the man, he made his way up the stairs. As he reached the top, a sound reached his ears, a sound that nearly had him jumping for joy like a schoolboy. It had certainly lifted his flagging spirits

A baby was crying. Dead babies certainly aren't capable of such a feat.

He rushed to the first door he could find. A terrible and wonderful sight met him at the threshold.

Nestled behind the body of Lily Potter, half buried in the rubble of a crib, lay the last of the Potters, Harry.

Choking back a sob at the sight of Lily, and then breathing a strangled sigh of relief for Harry, he let his eyes explore the rest of the room, just in case Tom or one of his followers remained. One did not live for well over ten decades without learning at least a little caution.

The sight of the piled black robes on the floor brought a tight, sad smile to the wizened old face, his long white beard twitching ever so slightly.

The baby cried out again in agitation and Albus stepped forward. Then something that had never happened before to Albus Dumbledore occurred: He was overpowered...by magic...blasted into a wall, actually.

After several minutes of recovery, he attempted to enter the room again at a much more sedate pace, with his wand held protectively in front of him. The results were the same.

His mind, incredibly sharp as it was, begin to find conclusions; answers to questions, almost before he could even ask them, even as his body hit the wall across the hall for the second time.

A young child, probably one of the most powerful wizards ever born, if current events were any indication, but he could not control his powers during this particular stage of his life.

Binding magic was not unheard of when a child experienced dangerous bouts of uncontrolled magic, and if Albus were any slower with his cushioning charms, he would be a dead man.

His control was good, perhaps the best ever. The spell wasn't overly complex. He was confident that he could cast it with just the right amount of power to last the boy until his schooling could begin, and, though Harry was undeniably powerful, surely Albus was more powerful still, he was just a toddler after all.

Never mind that it was illegal to perform the binding spell without filing for permission from the Ministry, it was the right thing to do.

Sure of his course of action, Albus whipped his wand from it's holster, hidden beneath his belt.

Tracing a smoky blue rune in the air in front of him, he spoke the words softly, "_Vox Redimio!"_

A blue beam of light leapt from his wand, expanding as it went, and several unexpected things happened at once: The beam passed over the remains of what he assumed to be Riddle's robes, and several streaks of black pervaded the blue. A pulse of white, centered around the crib, exploded outwards. And Albus's wand began to shake violently in his hand.

Pushing a bit more of his magic into the spell and reinforcing his will and intent, Albus calmly reasserted control over the spell. Unfortunately, the streaks of black did not fade from it, and another pulse of white light washed over him, causing his wand to shake even more violently.

He was growing a little concerned now, but still, he had plenty of reserves left. He pushed harder.

No result.

He pushed harder still.

No result.

After over a minute of this stalemate, Albus, nearing full blown panic now, finally pushed all of his power into the spell, backed by an iron hard will.

A flare of bright blue covered the room, forming itself into bands around the little boy buried in his swaddling clothes. Irritated cries met the binding. Black appeared in the blue again, and the bands gently faded into the boys skin, yanking a pained howl from him.

Albus, unfortunately, saw none of this. Magically exhausted, he fell to the floor, face first. There was just enough mental energy left in his reserves to send a call to Fawkes. He felt a warmth wash over him and heard the bursts of flame signaling both his friend's arrival, and the departure of them both.

His last mental command to his familiar would send Fawkes with a message that would put Hagrid on his way to collect baby Harry. Albus's exhausted brain was already working over time on a plan, even as he lost consciousness.

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"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."

_**Nymphadora Tonks's Bedroom**_

Sunlight streamed through the slats of the blinds, peeking through her eyelids and dragging her away from sleep with a groan. A warm feeling seemed to be settled in the back of her mind, it made her feel like she should be very happy.

An emerald green lock fell in front of her face as she sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She fingered it curiously. She'd never tried that color before.

She rushed to the bathroom down the hall to check it; new hair colors were always cool.

Her hair now fell in loose green curls down just below her shoulders. Running her fingers through it, she decided she liked it. It was no pink, nothing could ever beat pink, but it did look good on her.

Turning her head from side to side, she noticed the dried, salty tear tracks on her cheeks.

That was when she remembered it...the dream. Fresh tears followed the tracks. That poor little boy, but it was just a dream, wasn't it? It had felt so real! She could even remember their names: James, Lils, and cute, tiny little Harry...the Potters.

She took her time and cried for them. Whether they were real or not, they didn't deserve what they got.

It took several minutes to get a hold of herself. She was glad that Chuckles couldn't see her, he'd tell her how girly she was being. He already made enough fun of her for liking pink, even when she pointed out that her mum said pink was a shade of red, so him and all five of his brothers couldn't laugh. Rotten Weasleys and their rotten red hair and their rotten freckles. If it weren't for their mum being so nice, she'd have nothing to do with the lot of 'em, even if Chuckles _was _her best friend.

Finally, she made her way down stairs to the kitchen, the smell of sausage guiding her. No sooner had she stepped through the door than she was swept up in a hug by a whirling dervish of black hair, arms, and smiles.

"Mum!" she whined, try to block her mother's kisses.

"It's a beautiful day, Nymphie!" her mother bubbled. Tonks had never seen her so happy, not in all eight years of her life.

"What're you so happy about mum?" she asked, giving up on protecting her cheeks from her mother's lips.

"He's gone! Your daddy just sent an owl! The Aurors confirmed it! They haven't leaked it to the _Prophet_ yet, but he's gone!" her mother was almost in tears, she was so ecstatic.

"Who's gone?" she asked, her curiosity piqued. Her mother whirled her around and around, humming happily.

"Mum!" she yelled. The whirling stopped, though she thought her head might have continued without the rest of her. "Who's gone?"

"You-Know-Who!" her mother cried happily, "he's gone!"

Tonks had never seen any of the real horrors the Death Eaters had perpetrated. She'd never seen You-Know-Who torture someone for hours before he killed them, but after her dream last night, she couldn't have been happier that that maniac was gone.

"That's great!" she said happily, an impishly cute smile on her face. "How? Did Dumbledore get him? I bet he put him in his place. Daddy always said he was the greatest _ever_. He was probably tossing out spells that You-Know-Who had never even heard of!" she babbled excitedly.

"No, honey," her mother replied, pulling a green curl out of her face. "It was Harry Potter."

Tonks froze. "Who?"

"Harry Potter!"

"Is...is he a great wizard?" she asked, very afraid of the answer. _Please don't say he's a baby, please!_

"No, that's the thing! He's just a baby! James and Lily Potter's son," her mother's voice dropped a little, sadness creeping in. "They..._he_ killed them. Poor Harry, his parents are gone," her mother's face dropped for a moment, before she broke out into a smile again, "but he lived! I can't believe he lived. Ted said that he survived the Killing curse! No one has ever done that before!"

Tonks listened to the story of the Boy Who Lived that morning.

Other girls would be imagining a knight in shining armor, charging in on his steed to defeat evil, but Tonks knew what really happened. She had seen it. He was a poor little baby, who would never hear his parents tell him how much they loved him again, and now he was alone.

"Mum?"

"Yes dear?"

"Could...um...could we take Harry in? Now that his parents are gone?" she asked tentatively.

"That's sweet of you dear, but apparently Dumbledore has taken custody of him. One of his staff from Hogwarts dropped off the paperwork at daddy's office this morning. I'm sure he'll be fine."

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A/N:

**And there's the prologue! **

**Apologies to those of you who've been waiting for an update on "Ascension," but I've regrettably decided to put that story up for adoption. That's what I get for not doing a little preplanning before I start writing, eh?**

**Anyway, this story is already fairly well planned out, so no need to worry about me running out of steam with it. Though I will be obsessive about my editing, so updates will be a little slow. And don't worry, those of you who might be fearing a Super-powered Harry fic. Harry won't be doing things no one has ever heard of by the time he's eleven; this just isn't that kind of story, plain and simple.**

**Well, read, review, tell me what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Just a brief heads up. We're skipping a fair few years ahead now. For those of you who wanted to know the reactions of Tonks' family and other things of that nature, fear not, we'll be revisiting it eventually.**

**Disclaimer: See my homepage for my standard, blanket disclaimer.**

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Shifters

**Chapter 2 - The Hero of the Wizarding World**

_"The real hero is always a hero by mistake; he dreams of being an honest coward like everybody else."_

- Umberto Eco

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Number Four, Privet Drive. August 2, 1995

Harry Potter was definitely not fine.

He had no real clue as to what he was, but fine was nowhere in the near vicinity.

Waking up from nightmares was something that everyone did every once in a while. Harry did it every night, at least twice, with Cedric Diggory's blank, empty, lifeless eyes seared into the backs of his eyelids.

For over a month now, he spent his days wandering in a haze, managing to focus only when he was on the look out for any news of the Wizarding world. His nights were spent tossing and turning before he descended into nightmares of murder, betrayal, and desperate escape.

At first, he'd blamed himself for what happened, asking himself over and over again what would have happened if he had not let Cedric take the cup with him, but that had quickly faded to apathy, which in turn eventually masked a smoldering resentment toward his current situation: cut off, in the dark, alone. The only good thing about it was that all that smoldering seemed to burn the feelings of guilt away quite efficiently.

As he sat that morning, watching the sun rise, the recently turned fifteen year-old resigned himself to sneaking what bits and pieces of news he could, hoping to glean some kind of information that might ease his fears.

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The Apartment of Nymphadora Tonks

Tonks, rolled over. A hand - acting purely on muscle memory - slammed down on the alarm clock, leaving said clock little doubt as to who was boss.

Her eyes peeked wearily out from behind long lashes.

There were many wonderful things that could be said about Nymphadora Tonks.

She was loyal, kind-hearted, she could change her appearance at will, and, as far as she was concerned, her fashion sense was undeniably impeccable.

There was, however, one very important _bad_ thing to know about her: She didn't like mornings...as a matter of fact she _loathed_ them.

_Bloody guard duty!_ she fumed silently, fists pounding into her mattress impotently.

It was bad enough that she had to actually be awake during the _morning_, but waking up at eight a.m. after guarding _it_ until five a.m. was nothing short of criminal!

She and Dumbledore really needed to have a talk, but fortunately that was going to have to wait for a day.

Tonight was her first night off from both Auror duty and Order duty in weeks, and she was definitely going to enjoy it! A little light nine to five Auror stuff, and then she'd have her own little twelve hour vacation!

A buzzing noise flitted through her bedroom.

Tonks rolled her bare, shapely legs out from under the covers and slipped off of her bed, pausing to peer around her room blearily, attempting to locate whatever was causing the racket.

Her eyes widened when her brain clicked into normal function and the source of the buzzing noise became clear.

"Shite," she muttered under her breath, digging in the pile of dirty clothes around her bed.

Eventually she came up with the previous day's patched black jeans and dug a vibrating sickle out of the pocket. One side of the sickle was decidedly different from one you'd find in Gringotts; it had a phoenix engraved on it, with wings poised for flight and ruby red eyes. Those eyes were currently glowing in time with the vibrations.

She rubbed a thumb over the eyes and felt a presence worm it's way into her mind.

"_Meeting tonight, 5 p.m."_ whispered Dumbledore's voice in her head.

Tonks tensed up and seriously considered tossing the coin out the open window. Instead, she let loose a frustrated shriek and slammed it on the desk beside her alarm clock.

"So much for a mini-vacation," she whined to herself.

Still relatively frustrated, she went about her morning routine a little more violently than usual.

A look in the mirror showed her a pale heart-shaped face framed by lazy, green, shoulder length curls and offset by dark, sparkling eyes. She scrunched her face up in concentration and her favorite pink spikes greeted her when she opened her eyes again.

By the time she was shoving herself angrily into her pants, her frustration had begun to ebb into resignation. It wasn't like she had much of a social life anyways, but she did genuinely hoped that the meeting would be a bit more exciting than the usual fare.

Once she walked into the kitchen to fix breakfast, she had managed to regain her usual happy composure.

She shoved two pieces of bread in the toaster and started the coffee maker. With a flick of her wand towards the wireless, music, currently very soft, low volume music, floated through her flat.

Now, usually, music was meant to be hard, fast, and listened to at the highest possible volume, as far as she was concerned, but not at eight in the morning, and not after just three hours of sleep.

With a low hoot, a brown owl swooped through the open window and perched itself on her kitchen table.

"Well, hello there handsome!" she said warmly, fishing a knut out of the change dish on the nearby counter and slipping it into the owl's drawstring purse. The owl stuck out it's other leg so she could remove the paper, hooted once more in a dignified manner, and winged it's way back out into the morning air.

Tonks unfolded the paper, but had barely read the headline before the smell of smoke yanked her attention away.

Her toaster was on fire.

She shoved her chair back and dashed towards the counter, intending to yank the plug before she whipped out her wand to deal with the fire, but she was moving too fast.

With a startled squawk, she tripped over her own feet. A flailing hand caught the coffee pot, spilling hot coffee all over the back of her favorite shirt.

"HOT!" she shrieked, shooting back to her feet and stripping her shirt off as fast as she could.

In the meantime, the smoke from the toaster wafted up to the alarm. A sharp wailing noise echoed through her flat, and Tonks reflexively threw her wet shirt over the small flames on the toaster.

After several more seconds of wailing, the alarm registered the lack of smoke and shut off.

Tonks was left standing in front of her toaster in a coffee soaked bra, shoulders heaving with each breath, staring at the remains of her favorite shirt.

The morning's earlier frustration boiled back to the surface.

"DAMMIT!" she bellowed. Too tired and angry to think of doing the smart, convenient thing - fixing things with magic - she turned and stormed back to her bedroom for a change of clothes, leaving breakfast, and the morning paper, forgotten.

Ten minutes later, she stalked back into the kitchen, still scowling, snatched her paper off the table. yanked an apple out of the icebox and practically screamed "MINISTRY OF MAGIC" whilst tossing some powder into her fire place.

She tumbled into the atrium of the Ministry in an undignified heap, her apple rolling off on its own and her paper crinkling up in her hands.

Ignoring the snickers of those around her with practiced ease, she struggled to her feet, straightened her shirt and stalked off towards the lifts.

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Hogsmeade, Later That Afternoon

Hogsmeade patrol...the bane of an Auror's existence. Well, technically it was _one_ of the banes of an Auror's existence. It shared that lofty pedestal with paperwork, Fudge security detail, and weekend duty.

Not that there was anything wrong with Hogsmeade itself. It was just that patrolling it offered absolutely _nothing_ of interest. No seedy buskers to move along like you would find in Knockturn alley. No gaggles of people to alternately eavesdrop on or disperse like you might find in Diagon Alley. No, in Hogsmeade, there was nothing but a few elderly chaps hobbling down the road, unless you were lucky enough to draw patrol on a Hogsmeade weekend for the school, which in itself would be terrible because you were, in fact, working on the weekend.

The one good thing about Hogsmeade patrol, the only thing that made it even remotely bearable, was lunch in the Three Broomsticks.

Tonks sat at her table, head buried in the morning paper that she was finally getting around to reading, and handily ignored her partner for the day's patrol...erm...whatever his name was. She never did bother to remember it; the guy was a pompous pencil pusher, anyway.

She had just managed to regain her good humor after the ruination of her favorite shirt, the complete absence of breakfast, public humiliation in the atrium, and discovering a new - and unwelcome - rip in one of her better pairs of jeans. She hadn't particularly wanted anyone to see that she was wearing dark-blue lace knickers.

"All right," said...erm...that guy. "Twelve thirty, lunch break is over."

He sprung up with far too much enthusiasm and sauntered out of the pub with his nose high in the air.

"Pompous arse," Tonks muttered under her breath as she followed at a much more sedate pace. She hadn't even managed to finish the front page of her paper.

As soon as she cleared the door, she was hit by a wave of heat. For the third time that day, she was forced reevaluate her priorities. Should she give in and start wearing shorts?

It wasn't that she was ashamed of her legs or anything, she thought they were rather nice, in fact, but her sense of fashion dictated that when she wasn't attempting to bag a bloke jeans were the way to go. The question was with this being one of the hotter summers she could remember, could she forgive herself her lack of fashion and be a fair bit more comfortable?

Mr. Pompous Arse cut into her thoughts, "I see you've got the paper with you. What did you think of the article on Dumbledore's demotion from Supreme Mugwump?"

He didn't seem interested in an answer though, he just kept right on talking. "Personally, I agree with Mr. Libell's assessment of the situation. Dumbledore has obviously started to, shall we say, 'lose it' over the past few years. Claiming that You-Know-Who is back is just a pathetic attempt at a political ploy from a once great man who is descending into senility and his attention hungry poster boy."

_Could the man possibly be any more wordy? All he had to do was say "I think Dumbledore's off his rocker." What a moron, _she mused internally. Externally she scowled at him while she opened her paper once more.

"It's against regulations to read that while we're patrolling Auror Tonks," he stated haughtily.

"Like anything worth watching out for is going to happen," she retorted, not bothering to look up.

"That isn't the point," he returned, not seeming to care one bit that she wasn't listening. "The point is that we're the standard that the civilian populace looks up to. Flippantly breaking rules provides them with a poor example."

"Point out some of that civilian populace that is looking up to us at the moment, and I'll do my best to be a shining paragon of rule-following for them," she muttered, calmly waving a hand at the empty streets around them.

Then, she proceeded to ignore his blustering protests.

Tonks' bad mood was returning quickly. She had found the particular article that her partner had been talking about.

For weeks the _Prophet_ had been sneaking in snide little insults about Harry and Dumbledore. This article was a bit more straightforward than the others.

Specific quotes like _"...such an important office should not be held by someone with obvious designs on the Minister's office..." _and _"...I personally encourage a more thorough investigation into Harry Potter's school activities. An unstable child such as him could be a danger to all those around him in an environment as unpredictable as Hogwarts..." _really steamed her.

It really got under her skin when they went after Harry Potter. He was only a kid, and he didn't have any obvious outlets through which he could defend himself.

It had never crossed her mind to disbelieve him. There was simply no good reason for him to lie.

They turned up a side street and Tonks was bowled over by a small, brown haired bullet.

"Hey!" Tonks shouted, but paused when she looked down into a pair of big, scared eyes. The girl couldn't have been more than eleven or twelve and she was thin as a twig. "Are you okay?" Tonks asked warmly.

The girl nodded quietly, still staring hard at her, sniffling from time to time.

"You've gotta be more careful sweety," Tonks admonished kindly. The girl nodded again. "Now, as...comfy as this position is, how 'bout you let me up, eh?"

The little girl scrambled to her feet, clutching something to her chest. Her clothes, while not poor quality, had obviously been through the ringer, and the dark circles beneath her sparkling brown eyes spoke of an obvious lack of sleep.

"My name's Tonks, wha-"

"HEY!" roared a voice from down the street.

The girl took off like a shot. Tonks looked back the way she had come and saw Aberforth Dumbledore's head sticking out of the door of his pub.

What's-his-name scrambled forward, his chest thrust out importantly. "Is there something we can help you with, sir?"

"Eh? Who're you?" Aberforth asked, shooting a distrustful glare at the man.

"We're Aurors of course, good sir. Now, tell us what the situation is? Did that hooligan steal from you?"

"Auror? No son, Tonksy over there, now she's an Auror. You? You look like a good thump'd knock you over," Aberforth said

Tonks didn't bother to hide her snort, nor did she attempt to stifle her laughter when her partner began stuttering out assurances that he was more than capable.

"Wotcher, Aberforth," she greeted with a wave, "you need us to go after her?"

"Nah, don't waste your time," he said, waving his hand dismissively, "all she did was swipe a plate before I could dump the leftovers in the trash. Just hungry is all, I s'pose. No harm done."

"But sir!" what's-his-name protested, but Aberforth had already turned and headed back into his pub.

_**

* * *

**_

Number 12, Grimmauld Place.

After three _excruciating_ hours of patrol duty, and another hour spent filling out meaningless paperwork, Tonks found herself apparating straight to the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.

Walking in the front door felt like stepping into a refrigerator. The place always had a cool, oppressive feeling about it. She couldn't help wondering how Sirius, free spirit that he was, could stand living here full time.

After a brief run-in with her old nemesis, the umbrella stand - which she lost spectacularly - she had to spend the next five minutes attempting to silence the portrait of Walburga Black and just managed to slip into a seat at the kitchen table before Dumbledore called the meeting to order.

A brief glance around the table showed her only a few Order members. _Looks like it's a mission then, maybe I can get a little more fun out of it than auror patrol._

Seated to her right was Remus Lupin, who was next to Moody. Moody tossed her a sharp nod of acknowledgement.

Across the table from her was Bill Weasley, and, oddly enough, Chuckles. Last she had heard, he was still in Romania with his dragons.

"Good evening," began Dumbledore, who was standing at the head of the table, one hand idly stroking his beard, a somber expression on his usually warmly smiling face. "As some of you have no doubt guessed, you are here for a mission briefing."

The only person at the table who seemed surprised was Chuckles, a brief widening of his eyes giving him away. He started rubbing a burn on his forearm, probably a nervous habit, she decided.

"We have been receiving...disconcerting reports through the proverbial grape vine," Dumbledore continued, leaving off stroking his beard and looking exceptionally grave.

"What kind of reports?" Bill asked, sitting up a little straighter.

"It seems that the Muggle authorities had a report of a savage mauling..." Dumbledore trailed off, his eyes flicking to Remus significantly.

"Last Monday?" Remus whispered, eyes wide.

"Exactly, last Monday, the most recent full moon," agreed Dumbledore. A flash of pity washed over Tonks, she couldn't help but see poor Remus's knuckles whitening where he gripped the table.

"There have also been reports of a few brutal murders that did _not_ seem to be the attacks of a savage beast, at least one who wasn't in human form. These secondary attacks did not occur on or around a full moon."

Well, that made everything a little clearer. Everyone at the table had extensive experience with dangerous creatures or dark curses; werewolves were a little bit of both.

"So, some werewolves are making trouble with the muggles, and you want us to look into it, eh?" Moody asked, his magical eye staring out of the side of his head, presumably at Remus, while his real eye focused on Dumbledore.

"Indeed, an accurate and succinct summation," Dumbledore agreed, a small amount of humor in his voice, though he never lost his grave look.

"Why would You-Know-Who do something so eye catching when the rest of the world is in denial about him?" asked Chuckles.

"Severus is unaware of any of the packs currently allied with Voldemort being in the area. It could be an independent party."

"That's all well and good Albus, now you want to tell us the real reason you're sending us after werewolves that may, or may not, be Death Eaters in their down time, when the Auror Department could handle it just as easily, if not better than us?" Moody asked, a grim smile cracking his scarred features.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, Alastor," Dumbledore answered smoothly.

"Fine, fine, don't tell us, we'll take care of it either way, instead of using our resources the way they were intended to be used, gathering information," Moody said, his magical eye swiveling to focus on Dumbledore as well.

It was odd to see Moody going after Dumbledore like that. As long as Tonks had known him, he'd always been very friendly with the aging Headmaster.

"Um...where do we start looking?" Bill cut in, looking nervously back and forth between the ex-auror and his ex-headmaster.

"The original attack was reported in Banstead." Tonks did not miss the small sigh of relief that Dumbledore breathed.

The two Weasleys and Remus paled.

"Banstead? But that's in Surrey!" said Chuckles.

"Not too far from Little Whinging," said Bill.

"And Harry," whispered Remus. Tonks gasped and Moody continued to stare at Dumbledore.

"Indeed," was the Headmaster's only response.

"Well, let's go then!" said Remus. The werewolf shot to his feet and was heading for the exit before he finished speaking.

Tonks noticed Moody's magical eye had shifted to her. Once it noticed her watching, it sharply jerked back to Dumbledore. She cocked an eyebrow and he nodded, his head still turned towards Dumbledore. After a moment of thought, something clicked in her head.

"Whoa there Remus, where's the fire?" she said.

Remus pulled up at the door and the Weasleys, who were in the process of standing froze, looking at her incredulously. Tonks turned back to Dumbledore. "Wouldn't it make more sense to move Harry away from the danger and then forward the reports to the DMLE?" she asked.

Dumbledore frowned. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the tiniest of nods from Moody, and she could have sworn she saw him fighting a smirk.

"I would prefer to keep Harry where he is for as long as possible. The wards around Privet Drive make it next to impossible for Voldemort to find him there. Not to mention that there are plenty of other innocent families in the area who could find themselves victimized," came the smooth response, Dumbledore's frown disappearing almost as soon as it appeared. "Would attempting to prevent that not be the right thing to do?"

Moody gave her another barely perceptible nod and stood from his seat.

"Of course, Professor," she agreed with a smile. "Sorry, I was just brainstorming out loud, I guess."

"Quite all right Nymphadora," he replied indulgently. He seemed to have failed to see the glare she shot his way, but Chuckles didn't, he snickered at her on his way out the door.

Once Dumbledore admonished them to be careful, they waved their good byes, made their way outside with the Weasleys and Remus, and apparated to Banstead.

_**

* * *

**_

Banstead, Surrey.

The five of them arrived in a small copse of trees just off of a deserted road. Bill, Chuckles, and Remus, wands out, made their way towards the street. Tonks held Moody back.

"All right Moody, mind telling me what that back there was about?"

He looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"Not right now. I don't wanna say anything about it 'til I get something a bit more concrete to go on."

Tonks frowned. "But--"

"Good job picking up on things though, Albus certainly didn't expect anyone else to voice an opinion."

Moody turned and stumped off, leaving her to debate about whether or not she wanted to argue for a slightly less cryptic answer.

Realizing she was being left behind, she pulled her wand and hurried after her team, almost neatly avoiding a downed limb in her way. She didn't stumble, of course; no one saw it, so it didn't happen.

They cautiously made their way through several streets and alleys, spending a good half an hour before they came upon a particularly run-down looking area. The sun had just set, but the darkness did nothing to improve the area's appearance.

The street seemed deserted, a row of tattered suburban houses on each side. Remus, who was out in front of them, was sniffing the air.

"There's definitely something here," he whispered over his shoulder, holding out his hand for them to stop. "It's close, I think."

"Werewolf?" asked Moody.

"I...I think so, but something is off about the scent."

"What do you mean?" Tonks asked, but Remus had closed his eyes and cocked his head to the side, like a curious dog. "Remus? Hey, Remus?"

He stiffened, head still cocked at that weird angle. Then the rest of them heard it. Screams, very human, very terrified screams. Almost as one they made for the other end of the street at a dead run. The sounds were coming from between two houses, where an alley formed that wound off behind a fence.

Tonks was several steps down the alley when a terrifying roar rumbled through the night air, bringing her up short. A terror she had never known before seeped into her, tendrils wrapping themselves around her mind and freezing her on the spot.

Something was up there, something definitely not human. The worst she'd ever had to handle was a few shady characters selling counterfeit talismans. Whatever had made that noise sounded just a bit worse than your average slime ball.

Remus, heedless of anyone or anything else, continued to pelt up the alley.

Her body and mind gradually returned to her control and she looked around for the Weasleys and Moody. The Weasley boys had just turned the corner at the head of the alley, huffing and puffing heavily, and she could just barely hear the wooden thumps of Moody's wooden leg, probably several steps behind them.

Another roar jolted her back into action.

The first sign that she was getting close was the severed arm she tripped over, skidding a few feet face first.

The second sign that she was getting close was the light from the quarter moon that peaked out from around the clouds, revealing a figure towering over her.

The wan light made it look almost fake, wax-like, kind of like something from one of those weird museums, but the livid yellow eyes, sharp fanged snout, and heaving shoulders and chest told her it was definitely real.

A werewolf. A _big _werewolf. During a quarter moon.

With an angry roar, it lunged on top of her, pinning her to the ground. Wand forgotten, she closed her eyes with a squeak as it's putrid breath washed over her, smelling of rotting flesh and traces of blood. It started making snuffling noises while it sniffed around her throat. Tonks stifled a terrified moan and attempted to shove the massive head back.

The wolf let out a huff that, oddly enough, reminded her of her own amused snorts from time to time, and nuzzled her cheek. With one quick lick, the crushing weight was off her and she could hear claws clicking back up the alley.

Another sound assailed her ears, just as she was beginning to realize she wasn't going to die. A very human sounding whimper.

Sitting up quickly, she pointed her wand at the huddled form of Remus, curled up against the wall in a pool of blood.

Noticing the other bodies, and lone body parts around her, she sincerely hoped that the blood wasn't his.

"Remus?" she asked, heaving herself to her feet. Huffing breath and pounding foot steps came from behind. Bill and Charlie were both hobbling slightly, Moody bringing up the rear, apparently unscathed.

"The great beast just bowled right through us!" Moody exclaimed, not noticing Remus on the ground. "Completely ignored the spells!"

Tonks ignored him, stepping up to a still whimpering Remus and kneeling. Murmuring soothing words, she managed to pry his arms from around his midsection and gasped. Thankfully, none of the viscera scattered around the alley belonged to him, but he did have deep gouges across his stomach, three of them. They were bleeding profusely.

"Oh damnit it all! Moody, we need a portkey to St. Mungo's," she called urgently over her shoulder, auror field medic training kicking in.

She applied pressure to the wounds as best she could, using basic healing spells to attempt to force them to scab over while Moody picked up a crumpled piece of paper, muttered "Portus," and tapped it with his wand.

Without looking up Tonks held out an open hand for the portkey, but Moody tossed it to Charlie instead.

"You take him, Weasley," he ordered.

"But," started Tonks.

"No, Nymphie, you have to report to Albus, you were the first on the scene, at least the first who hasn't been injured," Moody interrupted. "Now get going Weasley."

"What should I tell them happened?" Charlie asked, kneeling down beside Remus.

"Tell 'em you stumbled across him on your way home from the pub."

Charlie nodded, reached out a hand to touch Remus's prone form, and they both disappeared.

"What the bloody hell was that thing?" asked Bill. Moody shrugged, but Tonks, things starting to catch back up to her, noticed the scattered arms, legs, and intestines and turned to vomit up her lunch.

"Werewolf, looked like," said Moody.

"But it's no where near a full moon!" said the red headed curse breaker.

"Doesn't matter what it was, we have to get back and report to Albus. Then, if Albus has any sense, he'll send us to retrieve Potter. Who knows if his wards will keep that thing out."

Bill helped Tonks up and without another word, they apparated back to headquarters.

_**

* * *

**_

Number 12, Grimmauld Place.

"You're quite sure of what you saw?" Dumbledore asked her. She nodded. "And you don't know of any reason why it would not attack you?" She shook her head.

"It doesn't matter why it didn't attack, let's just be grateful and move on to more important things," cut in Moody. "Like pulling Potter out. If that was a werewolf, and it's managed to change without the full moon, then we can't be sure what else it can do...it might even be able to break through the wards."

Dumbledore seemed to think over his response for a long time. "I think that highly unlikely," he began, holding up a hand to forestall any argument Tonks, Moody, or Bill might have had, "but I'm forced to agree with you. It would not do for your assailant to come across Mr. Potter during a walk around the neighborhood. And we've already had one person gravely injured tonight, let's not risk making it two."

The three breathed a collective sigh of relief. "I shall inform Molly of his impending arrival. If you three would be so kind as to retrieve him for us?"

"Of course," Tonks said. Bill nodded and Moody grunted in a vaguely affirmative way.

"Then I bid you good luck. I must warn you though, young Harry may be slightly...distrustful after the events at the end of his last school year."

"Let's go then," grumbled Moody, stomping out of the front door and just outside of the wards before he turned on the spot and disappeared with a slight pop. Tonks and Bill wasted no time in following.

_**

* * *

**_

Little Whinging, Surrey.

The black, tight, squeezing sensation receded, dumping Tonks onto the second strange suburban street of the evening for her.

"The wards prevent us from apparating any closer to the house, it's still a few streets away," Moody explained stomping off.

He led them down the street at a brisk a pace, at least, as brisk a one as he could manage. "Should be a short cut just up the way, I always take it when it's my shift to watch him." They paused when they heard a shout.

"DUDLEY, COME BACK! YOU'RE RUNNING RIGHT AT IT!"

A cold chill settled over Tonks. There was slight tugging on her mind and she cringed.

_"So, can you make them...bigger?" he asked, a disturbing leer on his face. It seemed to erase his handsome features, leaving him looking creepy and vaguely predatory._

_With a gulp, she nodded and scrunched up her face in concentration. Her shirt suddenly felt a bit tighter 'round her chest._

_"Ooh, you are a little nymph, aren't you?" he asked in a disturbingly perverse tone._

_"I--I'm sorry, I don't think I'm comfortable with this..."_

"Dementors!" shouted Moody, sprinting up the street and cutting through a small alley, heading towards the shouts. Tonks shook her head, trying to clear it.

"DUDLEY, KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT! WHATEVER YOU DO, KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT!" came another shout.

_Damn, one of them is about to be kissed, we'll never make it!_

Her heart was pounding in her chest, breath starting to coming in ragged gasps...maybe she needed to pick up the PT--physical training that is--she shouldn't be getting winded so fast.

She burst around the corner behind Moody.

The sight that greeted her was not a pleasant one. A dementor was hovering over a boy trying to pry his arms apart, definitely intent on administering a kiss. Another was switfly gliding towards a different boy on the other side of the alley.

Tonks could hear the boy who was still standing call out a spell, his voice sounded very weak. "_Expecto Patronum!_"

A light silver mist briefly clouded her view of him. She leapt forward, wand out and ready to help, but just as the boy seemed on the verge of collapse, he drew himself up straight, as though he'd caught a second wind.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" he bellowed.

White light briefly filled the entire alley before it dimmed, localizing around a glowing silver stag. Tonks felt a burst of warmth and happiness wash over her. She found herself standing in a daze, watching the young man watching his silver stag, it was like a dream.

Once the stag had completed it's work, driving the dementors away effortlessly, it faded from existence and she gradually shook her mind out of the haze it was in.

Moody and Bill pounded up the alley ahead of her; Tonks followed at a much more sedate pace, still feeling the after effects of that patronus. She was so caught up in it that she never noticed Arabella come around the other corner, fuzzy slippers, bag full of cat food, and all.

"Hold it right there!" a harsh voice brought them all to a standstill. The kid, for on closer inspection she realized he was just a scrawny, specky kid in over-large clothes, was holding his wand on them. "Who are you, and why were there dementors here?" the kid asked. His voice was surprisingly steady for someone who was caked in sweat and shaking.

"Good man Potter, constant vigilance!" Moody growled approvingly. Tonks gasped. _This_ was Harry Potter? He looked so...so...normal! The hero of the wizarding world was a specky, pale little kid? She'd seen pictures of him of course, but it never really registered, not like it does in person.

"Professor Moody?" Harry asked, squinting in the dim moonlight.

"Oh this is silly," Tonks huffed, whipping her wand out. _"Lumos!"_

The alley lit up to a much more desirable degree and Tonks found herself facing down the end of Harry's wand. _Okay, maybe "specky, pale little kid," wasn't the right description. _He looked downright scary all of a sudden.

"Whoa! Easy there, just giving us all a little light," she defended, waving her other hand in what she hoped to be a calming manner. Harry looked at her curiously.

Her eyes met his for a second and she felt a brief stirring in the back of her mind. A tugging, rather like the dementors, only warm instead of cold. Then he was looking back at Moody and the feeling was gone.

"Don't know 'bout 'Professor,' never got around to much teachin' did I?" Mad-Eye said. "But I am Moody."

"How can I be sure of that? How do I know you aren't all Death Eaters?" Harry asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Cripes, Moody. You've infected the poor boy. He's turning into a miniature you," Tonks joked, a weak attempt at lightening the mood. No one else seemed to have paid much attention to it. Bill was checking the big boy on the ground and Arabella was focused on the exchange between Harry and Moody.

"Good question," Moody replied. Tonks felt a surge of dread when she saw a smirk on Moody's face...or at least what passed for a smirk with him.

_Oh no, they're like two peas in a pod...we're gonna sit here for hours trying to decide who's a Death Eater, who's under the Imperious, and then it's gonna end with Moody's going to curse someone!_

"I don't guess it would help if I said he's really Moody, would it?" asked Bill.

"Hi Bill, and no, it wouldn't," Harry said. "Unless either you or Moody can tell me something that only we would know."

Moody studied the ground speculatively and Bill chewed his bottom lip in thought.

"That's a tough one," Bill admitted, "We've only really seen each other a few times."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, sounding a little lost and suddenly much less scary. He cast his eyes about, fishing for something to help resolve the situation. Eventually, after a glance at the larger boy on the ground, his face lit up. "I've got it! What did Fred and George do to my cousin last summer, the day I came to the Burrow?"

Surprisingly, a small smile cracked Bill's face. "They fed him one of those toffees, the ones that make peoples' tongues grow."

Harry smiled in return and took a step forward.

"Hold it!" snapped Moody.

Tonks heaved a sigh. _Here we go._

"How do _we_ know that _you're_ you? Maybe you set the whole thing up?" Moody said, glaring accusingly.

"Wouldn't him knowing about that thing last summer count?" asked Bill reasonably.

"No, he could've tortured it out of the real Harry before he took his place, or Potter could've spread it around school last year. Maybe this guy is a natural legilimens and he pulled the memory straight out of your head, didn't think of that, didja?"

Surprisingly, Harry shook his head, a small smile on his face, and muttered, "Yep, definitely Moody," under his breath. Tonks tried to stifle a giggle, but the amused look from Harry told her she'd been unsuccessful.

"All you ruddy kids," Moody was saying, "no proper sense of caution or fear. You wouldn't have lasted a second in the last war."

"But aren't we fighting the same guy this time? It's been a bit more than a second, and we're still alive Moody," Tonks pointed out helpfully. Moody made quite the show of ignoring her, though she was pretty sure that his magical eye was now glaring at her.

"So, how do I prove I'm me?" Harry asked. "A detailed life story?" he said sarcastically.

"Wouldn't hurt," answered Moody.

Tonks, sensing that they were on the cusp of an even longer night, hurriedly intervened. "I think he's already proved who he is."

"How's that?" Moody asked, finally deigning to acknowledge her input.

"You know that Remus will tell anyone who sits still long enough about how he taught Harry the Patronus Charm," Harry smiled a wistful little smile. "Do either of you remember what that Patronus is?" she asked.

"A stag!" Bill said, understanding dawning on his face.

"Exactly, so, unless you're blind, you just saw him give us proof not five minutes ago."

Moody looked slightly put out. He turned both eyes back to Harry for a few seconds before he huffed and stumped away. "Gonna check and make sure they're gone," he called over his shoulder petulantly.

"I guess that means he agrees," Tonks remarked dryly. Harry snickered, then his eyes fell on Arabella and widened.

"Mrs. Figg? Wh...what're you, I mean...I can explain all this...I...we..." Harry stuttered out.

Arabella, looking slightly frazzled, and well...psychotic in her nightclothes and slippers, cut in amusedly -- "You're witches and wizards. These good people were sent by Albus Dumbledore to take you to a safe place. Magic is real, the Ministry keeps it hidden, and you aren't really a criminal."

Harry stared at her dumbfounded. It was Tonks's turn to snicker. Bill just shook his head, a smile on his face as he bent down to help the bigger kid, Harry's cousin she assumed, stand.

"I'm a squib Harry," Arabella explained. Harry seemed to be broken. He just stared at her uncomprehendingly.

"Well, now that Bill's got that great lump up off the ground, we'd best get you back to your house so you can pack up, eh Harry?" Tonks asked, noticing that Moody hadn't waited for them to follow. Seeing that Harry was unlikely to move on his own anytime soon, she put a gentle hand on his back and nudged him along beside her.

"Wait, you're a squib?" Harry suddenly exclaimed, looking at the back of Arabella's head as she walked ahead of them.

"Oh yes," she replied.

"But why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm sorry Harry, Dumbledore said not to. He said to just watch you and make sure that you didn't get into trouble," Arabella explained.

"Dumbledore's been having me watched?"

"Of course, what with what happened with that poor Diggory kid and You-Know-Who and all, you don't think he'd let you walk around on your own, do you? Good Lord boy, they told me you were intelligent!" the batty old woman remarked.

Tonks felt that was a little unfair, "Everyone who's been watching him has been under an invisibility cloak or hiding, how was he supposed to know he was being watched?"

"Seems like common sense to me," she replied. They passed a drive way and she pulled up short. "Well, this is me. Now that you lot have him in hand, there's not much else for me to do and I need to get back with Chubbikins' dinner! Good night!" This was met with mutterings from Harry and half-hearted waves from the rest.

The rest of the walk back passed in uneventful silence.

Tonks breathed a sigh of relief when they turned up a drive and found Moody waiting by the door. Truth be told, walking in that much silence wasn't healthy, especially when she could almost feel the irritation pouring out of Harry.

Little did she know that the irritation was only the tip of the iceberg, but meeting Harry's relatives was about to clue her in.

Moody banged on the door with his staff.

"Diddikins? It's about time, I was starting to wor--"

The door swung open to reveal a bony looking woman, jaw agape at the scene before her. Her eyes raked over Tonks disapprovingly, widened in fright when they came to Moody, and then paused in shock when they rested on Bill and her son.

"Diddy? WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?" she screamed; not at Moody, Tonks, or even Bill, but at Harry.

Harry snorted and pushed by her, motioning for everyone else to follow him.

"What's wrong Petunia? What's all the noise about?" bellowed a voice. A large, marshmallow shaped man stomped into the entrance hall and stopped dead in his tracks. "Who're you? What are you doing in my home?"

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY BABY BOY?" shrieked the skinny woman, Harry's aunt.

Before any answers could be forth coming, or another question asked, said 'baby boy' slipped off of Bill's shoulder to his knees and emptied his last few meals. Harry's aunt and uncle swooped down on him, all in a tizzy, and half walked-half carried him to a chair.

As soon as they had him seated, Harry's uncle whirled on them. "YOU! BOY!" he roared.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon?" Harry asked in a resigned voice.

"What did you do to my son?" he demanded, his mustache quivering and his face rapidly turning red.

"I didn't do anything to him," Harry replied.

"Liar! You used..._it_ on him, didn't you?" his uncle growled, obviously attempting to sound threatening. If Tonks weren't so shocked by it all, she would have found it funny, the way he puffed himself up and glared like every single witch and wizard in the room wouldn't tear him apart in half a second.

"No, I didn't," said Harry, still in the same calm, resigned voice as before.

At that moment, an owl soared in through the window and dropped a folded piece of parchment on the table before it turned almost on it's wingtip, and glided right back out.

"Owls! I'll not have those ruddy birds making a nest out of my home!" shouted Harry's uncle. Harry ignored him and reached for the parchment. He read it over quickly, blanched, and leaned back against the wall heavily.

"What is it, Harry?" asked Tonks.

"I've been expelled...for underage magic," he mumbled, eyes wide in disbelief.

"Ha! You did use your freakishness on my son! Now tell me what you've done to him!" said his uncle, a nasty smile on his face.

Tonks tuned them out as she gently extracted the letter from Harry's hand and skimmed over it. She sighed irritably.

"Rudding Hopkirk," she muttered. "Anybody got a quill I can borrow?" she asked the room at large.

Suddenly, the room had gone quiet. Moody and Bill, who had been watching the verbal barrage like a tennis match, stared bemusedly at Harry's uncle, who was still breathing heavily and attempting to make himself threatening. He wasn't really doing a good job of it; it seems that he had failed to notice all of the adult magic users in the room until she spoke up.

"Anybody? What about you Harry? Surely you've got a few quills and some ink with your school supplies?" she asked warmly.

Harry's eyes flicked towards his fuming uncle. "Um, yeah, I've got some in my trunk, but it's upstairs."

"Great, lead the way then!" she replied.

"I'M NOT FINISHED WITH HIM!" his uncle bellowed.

"Yes, you are Dursley," cut in Moody. "You two go ahead, I'll deal with tubby here," he said over his shoulder. Tonks could just imagine the wicked grin on his face, judging by Vernon's rapidly paling features.

Harry seemed all too happy to follow orders. He quickly led her back down the hall and up the stairs.

"This place is awfully...clean. Bit unnatural, really," noted Tonks, glancing around. "Is your aunt some kind of neat freak?"

Harry chuckled humorlessly. "You could say that."

"Um, not to be rude or anything, but who are you?" he asked as they paused outside a door with a multitude of locks.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I'm Tonks," she said, extending a friendly hand, which he took, "and you're Harry Potter! Pleased to meet you."

"Tonks..." he trailed off, "er...you don't have a surname?"

"Tonks is my surname. Nobody, and I mean nobody, calls me by my first name, except mum and dad," she said sternly, though she threw in a wink to take some of the sting out of her words. The corner of his lips twitched in what might have been a weak attempt at a smile.

"What's wrong with your first name?" he asked curiously.

Tonks sighed heavily. This was why she hated introductions, people always wanted her first name. "Okay, I'm gonna tell you this, but I don't wanna hear you laughing at me; not a single--little--chuckle, got it?"

He nodded, looking at her bemusedly. "Kind of sensitive about it?"

"You'd be sensitive too if your fool of a mother had named you..._Nymphadora_," she shuddered theatrically.

"Now, what do you say we go get that quill, eh?" she asked hurriedly, wanting to get off the subject of her name as quick as possible. Harry nodded and opened the door, the corners of his mouth tweaked again, as though he might smile.

"Oh, now this is much more like it!" she said, eyes sweeping the room. It was small, and cramped, but there was enough clutter here and there to give it a friendly kind of feel. Harry walked over to a battered trunk at the foot of the bed and began to rummage around in it.

"Sorry I haven't straightened up or anything, I didn't know anyone would be seeing my room anytime soon," he called over his shoulder.

"Oh please, you're a teenager, you're supposed to be messy. Besides, it kind of reminds me of my flat," she responded, happily browsing around the room.

Harry turned back around from the trunk, a quill and bottle of ink in hand, and stopped. "How did you do that?" he asked, gaping at her.

"Do what?"

"Your...your hair, it changed!" he said.

Tonks reached up to her spiky hair only to find it wasn't spiky anymore. A loose green curl fell in front of her face. "Oh, drat! I hate it when it does that!" she whined, "I can't figure out why it won't stay the way I put it."

She glanced around the room and saw a mirror on the open door of his wardrobe. She hurried over and gave herself a once over. "Stupid hair," she muttered before she closed her eyes and scrunched up her face.

When she opened them, the spiky pink hair was back. "There, much better!" she said, turning back to a gaping Harry.

"How did you do that?" he asked again.

"I'm a metamorphmagus," she responded off-handedly as she took the writing utensils out of his hands.

"A metamorph...?"

"Magus, yes," seeing his confused look, she continued in a learned-by-wrote voice: "A metamorphmagus is someone who can change their appearance at will. Hair, eyes, mouth, bones, muscles, if I've got it on my body, I can probably change it...though I can't really imagine why I might want to change my pancreas or something."

He was looking at her with something bordering on awe. "Can...can you teach me?" he asked.

"Nope, sorry. You have to be born a metamorphmagus, it's not something you can learn. Though I bet you wouldn't mind hiding that scar sometimes, especially when the papers get after you," she said with a grin.

"Bloody Skeeter," he muttered under his breath.

Tonks sat down at his tiny, rickety looking desk and unfolded his letter from the Ministry. Down at the bottom she wrote a small note:

_Fully qualified witch and wizards on premises. _

_As per article 19 of the Reasonable Restriction for Underage Wizardry, Mr. Potter is allowed to defend himself and/or muggles when in grave danger._

_Suggest looking into the rogue dementors in Little Whinging._

_Signed,_

_Auror Tonks, Badge# 04985_

_Witnessed by retired Auror Moody._

"Well, that should take care of that," she said, finishing with a flourish.

Harry read it over her shoulder. "You're an Auror?" he asked.

"Yep, been out of the academy for over a year now," she said proudly. "Can I borrow your owl?"

"Sure," he said, turning to the cage on his dresser. "Hedwig!"

The snowy owl glided out of her cage silently and settled on his outstretched arm.

"Oh, she's beautiful!" said Tonks, running her fingers over the owls back while Harry attached the note. "Where did you get her? I thought snowy owls were pretty rare in this part of the world."

"They are, she's the only snowy I've seen at school," he said. "Hagrid bought her for me as a birthday present on my first trip to Diagon Alley."

He walked to his open window, absently stroking her feathers with his free hand. "Take this to the Ministry, okay girl?" Hedwig hooted at him reassuringly and hopped out the window.

Tonks clapped her hands together, "Right! Now that that's settled, lets get you packed up. Dumbledore wants you moved out tonight."

Harry's face lit up in a real smile for the first time since they'd walked through the front door, "Are we going to the Burrow?" he asked hopefully.

"Nah, not safe. Old Dumbles wants us to take you to..." Tonks paused and looked from side to side, suddenly nervous, "Well, it's not really very smart to talk about it here, so I'll tell you about it once we're on our way, yeah?"

Harry's face darkened, but he nodded.

Normally, Tonks would have just flicked her wand and been done with it, but she thought that fat tub of lard downstairs could use a nice, extended dressing down, and it's not everyday one gets to meet Harry Potter.

So, she found herself stuffing books into his well worn trunk and floundering for something to talk about. Finally, she came across a familiar title amongst the books.

_Remus and Sirius go on about how good he is at it, surely he'll like talking about it?_

"_Quidditch Through the Ages_, eh?" she ventured, "Which team do you support?"

"Uh..." he temporized nervously, "the Cannons?"

"The Cannons? Brave choice," she teased. "I like the Tornados myself. What d'you think about the new cobbing rule this year?"

Harry looked around nervously. "Umm...it's...good?"

Tonks scrutinized him closely. "You don't even follow the professional leagues, do you?"

He heaved a sigh and handed her an old, entirely too large shirt. "No."

"But...Remus and Sirius talk about how much you love the game all the time, why wouldn't you follow any pro teams?"

His gaze hardened and his bright green eyes drilled into her own. "How can I, when I'm locked up here without the first idea of what's going on in our world?" he said icily. "No news, no visits, and the owls I get from my friends are so vague that they are more irritating than helpful."

Tonks was momentarily taken aback, but quickly regained her mental footing. "No need to get shirty with me!" she said, hands on her hips, "it's not like I knew. I'm just trying to be friendly."

Harry's shoulders dropped and he managed to look properly abashed.

"Now," Tonks continued a little more warmly, "how about you just _ask_ me what's going on, and if I can tell you, I will."

He nodded and mumbled an apology, shuffling through a stack of parchment and organizing his summer work before handing it off to her to be packed.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, he asked his first question, "What's Voldemort been up to?" but, instead of waiting for an answer, it was like the flood gates had opened and a deluge of questions followed.

"Is Fudge doing anything about it? What has Dumbledore been doing. Have there been any attacks? Are my friends okay?"

Tonks stared at him for a few moments, waiting to see if he had anymore. Before she spoke, she grabbed the last pair of pants he handed her, calmly fit them into the trunk, and then closed the lid and sat on it while he snapped the locks into place.

"I'm pretty sure I can answer most of that, but a lot of it will have to wait until we get to where we're going." She noticed his scowl returning and moved to head him off. "But, I can tell you that there have been no attacks and, therefore, your friends are fine; as for Fudge, idiot that he is, he has his head planted firmly in the sand."

Harry seemed to be placated. "You'll tell me the rest later?" he asked hesitantly.

"Everything that I can," she assured him.

Five minutes and one thoroughly cowed (though still very red) Vernon Dursley later, the three Order members and Harry were making there way down Privet Drive with Harry's trunk trundling along behind him and Hedwig's cage swinging from Tonks' hand.

Bill and Moody were walking ahead of them, wands cupped surreptitiously in their palms and eyes sweeping around, looking for the first sign of trouble.

Tonks and Harry were a few steps behind, walking along normally.

"Can you tell me where we're going now?" Harry asked, not entirely successful at keeping the bitterness out of his voice. She did give him points for trying, though.

She leaned down, cupped her hand around his ear, and whispered, "The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix." Seeing him open his mouth, she quickly cut him off, "Don't say anything about it, that's all I can tell you until we're there.

"Okay," he said in a normal tone of voice.

They continued walking in silence for a few moments before he spoke again.

"Hey Tonks?" he asked curiously.

"Hmm?"

"Why does it smell like coffee?"

Tonks, blushing a little, began to tell him about her day...

**

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A/N:

**Chapter 1 down! This is the last chapter I had fully prewritten (I started writing this months ago, got blocked, and put it down for awhile). The next chapter is about halfway done, so it shouldn't take more than a week or two to finish. **

**Remember, as I said in my last author's note, I will be going slow to ensure quality, you have been warned...twice.**

**So, in this chapter, the plot thickened. Plenty of questions to answer and lots of things that don't make any sense (yet). Hopefully, I've grabbed your interest.**

**My final bit of "A/N" goodness is a confession. Yes, I borrowed some lines from OotP, so sue me...er actually, don't sue me, please...I'll give you cookies if you don't.**

**Read, review, tell me what you think!**

**Peace out, **

**Cid.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Sigh...I still don't own Harry Potter or any associated characters/settings/ideas. The plot is hopefully somewhat original, but I'm not making any money off of it.**

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Shifters

**Chapter 3 - Friends New, Friends Old, and Friends Unseen**

_"One loyal friend is worth ten thousand relatives."_

- Euripides, Greek Playwright.

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Number 12, Grimmauld Place. August 3rd, 1995

On the second floor of a filthy, grimy house that most people didn't know existed, Harry tossed and turned in his bed.

One bed over, his best mate for the last four years slept on peacefully, unaware that Harry was once again reliving the death of Cedric Diggory.

With a final whimper of, "Cedric...no!" Harry shot bolt upright, his eyes wide and unfocused. His right hand flailed about for his glasses and his left rubbed furiously at his eyes, attempting to grind the sleep out of them - along with images he'd rather not see, ever again.

Finally, he slipped his over-taped glasses on and looked about the room wildly, watching the phantasms from the graveyard slowly fade into a dark, dingy room.

_This isn't my room!_

He did his best to calm his breathing while his tired mind attempted to reconcile the room he was in with the room he should be in. A glance at the sleeping form of Ron and the blank portrait on the wall started to bring things back into focus for him.

_Grimmauld Place...I'm in Grimmauld Place, the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix,_ he reassured himself. Not that the thought of being in this place was all that reassuring. Were it not just a tiny bit better than being with his relatives, completely cut off from his own world, he would probably hate this place with a passion.

Having to wait outside on the street for forty five minutes while Moody tracked down Professor Dumbledore, just so he could bring back a slip of parchment to tell him where the building right in front of him was didn't have anything to do with it...honest.

Being shunted aside like so much chattel once he'd finally gained entry wasn't all that much help either, though it was nice to get a hug from Mrs. Weasley.

Seeing Ron and Hermione again was a plus, though he had been somewhat cold with them and, if he didn't have Tonks' assurances that she would explain all she could once she had some much needed sleep, he probably would have shouted at them.

Having Sirius around, on the other hand, would be great, so long as he wasn't in the funk he had been in when Harry arrived; he barely said two words to Harry beyond hello.

Having gotten his breathing under control, Harry glanced at the clock by the wall.

_4:30 in the morning_.

He sighed half-heartedly. Hedwig, whether she sensed her master's frustration or simply wanted some affection, flapped across the room and lit herself on his shoulder, crooning and rubbing her head against his cheek.

"Thanks, Hedwig," he murmured, stroking her back absent-mindedly.

Realizing that, as usual, more sleep was probably a no-go, Harry calmly slid Dudley's old t-shirt on, hitched up his raggedy, elephantine pajama bottoms, and slid softly out of the room.

The place was still as dirty as it had appeared the night before. The dreary gas-lamp lighting and serpentine motif practically screamed that this place belonged to dark wizards, which, not too long ago, it did.

Deciding, out of morbid curiosity, to explore the parts of the house he hadn't seen last night, Harry utilized all of the stealth he'd learned over the years spent sneaking midnight snacks at the Dursleys' and crept down the stairs with only a minimal amount of squeaking.

After about fifteen minutes he'd come to an infuriating conclusion: even with all the dark objects and enchantments in the house, Grimmauld Place was dead boring. He found himself in a moldy old sitting room, on a moldy old couch, staring into flames that were, thankfully, free of mold, though they did seem to provide less heat than a fire should.

It was while he was pondering how, in the middle of one of the hottest summers he'd ever known, the house could possibly be so cool, that he drifted off to sleep again.

Hedwig gently stroked his cheek with her head one last time and winged her way to the mantel to keep watch.

_**

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Grimmauld Place, Tonks' Room

_Dumbledore's aged face swam before her mind's eye, smiling happily..._

_Her mother's voice was raging at someone, though she couldn't make out the words..._

_Dreams... this was a dream, she knew. Which was odd, considering that she rarely remembered any of her dreams, much less realized what they were while they were happening._

_A flash of blue light nearly blinded her and it all went dark._

Tonks' eyes opened slowly, her mind assimilating what she'd seen and heard. None of it really made sense, which probably explained why she had never bothered to remember her dreams before; it was too much of a bother to try and make heads or tails of them. Well, that and trying to remember them took too much time away from sleeping.

She stared at the ceiling of "her room" for a bit, attempting to drift off again. She didn't really like calling the room that, as it implied some kind of ownership. It was just the room Sirius set aside for her to use whenever she had to be at headquarters late into the night and didn't feel like apparating home. It was _not_ hers. She didn't want it to be _hers_. Nothing in this house should ever be associated with her.

Eventually, she huffed irritably and gave up on sleep. As she rolled off of the _slightly_ less than comfortable mattress, she glimpsed the clock.

_Merlin... it's only five a.m._

While outwardly she seemed to be doing nothing more than staring at the clock, inwardly she was pitching a hissy fit of epic proportions.

_When? When do I get to get a regular night's sleep? This is _so_ bloody unfair! If I don't get some good sleep soon I'll... I'll... well, I don't really know what I'll do, but it won't be an effing picnic, I can guarantee that!_

After a few more mental expletives, Tonks managed to calm herself down and make for the kitchen. If she was going to have to be up early, at least she could get some very nice, very caffinated, coffee to help wake her up - hopefully without drenching herself in it this time.

Soon enough she had a streaming mug of coffee in her hand with just a dash of cream and lots of sugar... the perfect way to wake up in the morning.

Realizing that she was unlikely to have any company in the kitchen for at least another hour or so, she made for the more comfortable accommodations in the sitting room.

The fire was directly across the room from her when she entered, leaving the perfectly silhouetted couch in between. She padded over to one of the comfy leather chairs directly by the fire, dodging around the furniture slowly while her eyes adjusted to dim, flickering firelight.

Things were going smoothly, she was moving more gracefully than she could ever remember, and she was almost to that oh-so-inviting looking chair when a white lump on the mantle shifted and hooted at her.

"ACK!" she shrieked before she gracelessly fell on her rump and tipped her coffee mug directly onto herself.

"_Bloody hell!"_ she hissed, fumbling for her wand. With a soft word and a quick swish the hot coffee vanished from her shirt, leaving only a faint odor behind - at least she'd had the sense to clean it magically this time.

"Two mornings in a row, what does the coffee have against me!?" she whined.

She heard some snickers drifting from the couch. Immediately she trained her wand on the source where, now that she looked properly, she could make out a human sized lump with heavily taped glasses.

"Harry? What're you doing down here?"

He peered blearily at her. "Nightmare," was his only explanation. "You?"

"A weird dream."

Harry grunted noncommittally. Tonks eased herself up off the floor and into a chair, where she curled up and wrapped her arms around her knees.

Resting her chin on top, she turned her gaze to Harry and considered him for a moment.

"When I was little, my mum was always the one I screamed for after a nightmare. The first time that I had a really bad one, she sat me down and wouldn't let me up until I told her about it." Tonks drifted off for a moment, a tired smile spreading across her face.

"Sounds great," Harry mumbled distractedly, eyes staring deep into the fire.

"Actually, it frustrated me to no end. I pitched a right fit," she chuckled. "Stick around me long enough Harry, and you'll find I'm stubborn as a rock."

Tonks paused for a moment, giving him a proud smile before she continued.

"But, I inherited that from mum."

"So you talked?" he smirked, perking up a little bit.

"After a few hours of sitting in a hard-backed kitchen chair, yeah."

"So you had to go through that every time you had a nightmare? Sounds rough."

"Nah, it was easy after that. I talked about them on my own. D'you know why?"

Harry shook his head, his sleepy eyes leaving the fire and focusing on her.

"Because it helped," she finished, giving him a pointed look.

He spent a few moments staring at her; the intensity of his gaze increasing as his mind slowly gained focus and started putting her hints together.

"No thanks," he said firmly, though not unkindly. "I don't want to talk about it."

Tonks hooked her thumb towards her chest. "Stubborn as a rock, Harry," she countered with a chiding voice. Harry simply continued to stare.

Ten minutes passed while their eyes battled with each other until, finally, Harry sighed.

"Some nights... some nights, I don't dream at all," he said. His eyes slid out of focus. "But most nights, I dream about the graveyard."

He trailed off and Tonks nodded encouragement. She had been given a general overview of what happened that night; Harry kidnapped, Diggory murdered, Harry's blood used for a dark ritual of rebirth. She felt a brief twinge of curiosity over the details, but easily stamped that down. Now wasn't the time.

Harry mumbled something she couldn't hear.

"Sorry?"

"'Kill the spare,'" he murmured a little louder, a slight quiver in his voice. "That's what he said, like Cedric was nothing but rubbish for the bin."

Tonks didn't have to ask who 'he' was.

Harry closed his eyes and remained quiet for so long that Tonks thought he might have drifted off to sleep. Just as she was about to give up and go make herself another cup of coffee, he spoke again.

"It... it shouldn't have happened," his whisper carried across the room; dead, emotionless.

"No, no it shouldn't've," she agreed. She felt a fresh stab of pity for Harry. It was odd; they had only known each other for hours, but after that conversation, Tonks felt rather connected to him, possibly because she was rather certain he hadn't talked about that night voluntarily since it happened.

She felt the urge to hug him, but she thought that might have been a little awkward considering how long they'd known each other.

Several more minutes of silence followed and eventually she noticed his breathing even out and deepen. A small smile creased her face. She had a hunch that he might just get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep now.

"Cheater," she whispered at his slumbering form, "I'll make you stay up and tell me the rest next time."

On impulse, she reached out and gently ruffled his hair before she made her way back to the kitchen for another cup of coffee before work, the warm fuzzy feelings of having helped someone settling in the back of her mind.

_**

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Somewhere in Surrey

Nydia Kradinov was tired.

She smelled... badly. She had only eaten once in the past three days, she jumped at every shadow, worried that each one hid her parents' murderers, and she had been constantly moving for several hours now.

The streets - in 'Surrey' if the signs were to be believed - felt... odd; some very deep, very basic instinct told her this place was wrong, and she trusted her instincts more than anything else in the world.

If she hadn't, she would've been dead twice over by now.

It was her instincts that drove her into the forests around her family's estate, minutes before it was attacked. It was her instincts that drove her out of Poland, across Europe, through the Chunnel, and all around England - to Scotland and back in a matter of hours. Something was here, in this country. Something important, something she needed. She didn't know what it was, but she had a feeling.

The smell she had been following, the one that made her feel safe, that tickled her instincts, had faded. It was a new scent, one she had picked up yesterday from a friendly woman she had bumped into, and it filled her with hope. It reminded her of the drink her mother used to sip in the mornings, when she would look up and smile at Nydia when she came bounding down the stairs for breakfast.

When she came across it again in Surrey, the smell had changed, like it had been mixed with something else, and the new scent was all together intoxicating.

Trusting to the fates to lead her to wherever the source of the smell had gone, she wandered aimlessly, eyes open for any signs of where her next meal might come from.

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Ministry of Magic, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Auror Office

Tonks strolled into the office whistling tunelessly. She had loaded up on the caffeine, shoved down a wonderful Molly Weasley breakfast, and managed to not permanently damage any of her favorite clothes in the process. Yes, it was a much better morning than yesterdays.

She had even managed to get all of Harry's uncomfortable questions about the recent happenings in the magical world out of the way, with Sirius' help, and, through judicious use of levity, made it more enjoyable than awkward. The poor boy needed a few good reasons to smile.

Several of her coworkers called out greetings or waved as she made for her cubicle and she returned them happily. It was going to be a great day, she could feel it.

Her good mood lasted until she rounded the corner that kept her desk hidden from view.

Standing by her desk was a short, stocky woman clad in a floral patterned dress topped by a fluffy pink cardigan. Everything about her seemed _wide_. Everything, that is, except her small, beady eyes. Truth be told, she reminded Tonks an awful lot of a toad.

A toad that had been genetically crossed with a rat.

"Hello, would you be Auror Tonks?" she simpered; the jowls on her round face quivering and creasing in an obviously fake smile.

"Yes, what can I do for you?" Tonks replied politely.

"My name is Delores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister," the squat woman paused dramatically, obviously sure that Tonks was very impressed with her position. "This was forwarded to me by Mafalda, down in the Improper Use of Magic Office."

Umbridge handed her a familiar piece of parchment. It was Harry's notice of expulsion for using the Patronus Charm, which she had personally dismissed and signed off on.

"What about it?" Tonks asked calmly.

"_Minister Fudge_ and I were both certain that you must have been mistaken about certain things," Umbridge replied, laying heavy emphasis on Fudge's name and giving her a pointed look. She let out a fit of girlish giggles. "Surely, you couldn't have seen any dementors in Little Whinging of all places?"

Tonks had a very good idea of where this was going and she didn't appreciate it one bit; her hackles began to rise, metaphorically speaking. "No, I'm sure I did. Tall blokes, black cloaks, make everything all cold and dark and unhappy. Kind of hard to mistake that," she said sarcastically.

"Auror Tonks, I'm sure that _Minister Fudge_ would be very pleased if you could admit you might have been mistaken." Umbridge coaxed, again with the same emphasis on 'Minister Fudge.'

Tonks had to try very hard to keep her eyes from rolling. This woman was horribly lacking in subtlety, and Tonks didn't respect the Minister nearly enough to be intimidated by someone dropping his name.

"Nope, I saw what I saw. Harry did what he did in defense of himself and his muggle cousin," she said firmly. Umbridge's false smile vanished.

"Now listen here you silly little girl, dementors could not have been in Little Whinging!" the rotund woman insisted, a scowl draping itself across her face.

Tonks bristled and clenched her hands into fists. "Tell that to the dementors then," she ground out. "I'll say it again: I saw what I saw, and as an Auror, I'm well within my rights to judge whether underage magic is justified or not."

"Speaking of your _job_, I'm not sure what you did to get it," Umbridge said snidely, an evil smirk on her face, "but I'm willing to bet it was less than savory; you obviously aren't smart enough to have earned it, and you may just be stupid enough to lose it."

Tonks was practically spitting nails. The nerve of her, the absolute nerve! How dare she imply that Tonks had _slept_ her way into her position?

"Now, I'm not sure if you are just a silly little fan of Mr. Potter's, or if you are lying for him out of some misguided sense of loyalty, but I won't have you spreading your filthy falsehoods among these good people! There were no dementors in Little Whinging!"

"Oh shut it, you brainless arse kisser!" Tonks snapped. She'd had more than enough of this horrible little woman.

Umbridge glared at her. "Admit that you're lying about the dementors and I might forget you said that," she hissed, her eyes squinted up in distaste.

"I could care less if you forget it!" Tonks seethed. "I saw dementors, I'll tell anyone who asks that I saw dementors, and anyone who was there that night will say they saw dementors! _And, _I'll have you know that I made top marks in all of the N.E.W.T.'s that are required for Auror training."

"We'll see about that!" Umbridge immediately shot back. "The standards at Hogwarts are apparently lacking. I'm _so_ happy that Cornelius has installed me as the new Defense against the Dark Arts instructor. _Now_ we can be sure that the future of our world is properly educated!"

"Ha!" Tonks exclaimed scornfully, "I could do a better job than you, and I'm rubbish at teaching!"

Umbridge merely sneered and brushed past her. After she took a few steps, she stopped and turned. "This isn't over, Auror Tonks, I _will_ see Mr. Potter properly punished," she said darkly before she turned and waddled away angrily.

Tonks, her face still an angry red, sat roughly, yanked the first piece of parchment off the stack on her desk and began scribbling furiously.

"You all right?" asked a smooth, deep voice that she recognized immediately.

"I'm fine," she huffed, not bothering to look up. Kingsley stepped around behind her and laid a friendly hand on her shoulder.

"I'm not sure if all that was what Dumbledore had in mind when he told us to keep a low profile, Tonks," he murmured just loud enough for her to hear.

She slammed the quill down on her desk. "You heard her, Shack! She might as well've called me an incompetent slag! I'm not just gonna stand there and take that kind of abuse!"

Kingsley waved his hands in a vaguely soothing manner. "Everyone here knows you're good at your job Tonks, no one would buy any of that. Besides, I've talked to people who have worked with Umbridge before, and they all agree that she's an evil, bitter old hag."

"She is that, isn't she?" Tonks said, managing to reign in her temper. "Makes you kinda wonder how she ever got as high up as she has. _She_ certainly couldn't have slept her way there."

Kingsley, amused, replied, "Tell you what, give me half of that paperwork. You are in need of a break, little lady."

She smiled weakly and complied.

"Thanks."

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Meanwhile, at Grimmauld Place.

Lunch was a rather quiet affair.

Harry felt sort of sorry for Mrs. Weasley, who looked around the table with a bewildered expression, unsure of why her youngest son and his two friends weren't speaking.

Ginny cast knowing looks at all three of them, but whether or not she approved or disapproved she kept to herself.

Ron didn't eat with his usual gusto, but instead stared down at his plate and shoved his food around with a fork.

Hermione just stared at Harry with eyes full of concern.

After lunch, they cleaned. They cleaned a lot. Were it not for the presence of his friends, in fact, Harry might have thought he was back at Privet Drive. The silence hanging between them, however, was just as unwelcome as his aunt or uncle shouting at him.

The twins, who had joined them after lunch, didn't seem to notice the drama around them at all, and were the only ones capable of coaxing a smile from Harry at the moment.

The cold, near silence lasted all day, really, until it was finally brought to a head by Hermione.

Fred and George had disappeared into their room, whispering to each other along the way. Harry was pretty sure he didn't really want to know what they were discussing.

Ginny had apparently had enough of the uncommunicative atmosphere. She simply bid them a stiff goodbye and disappeared.

This left Harry, Hermione, and Ron alone in a relatively clean room; a very _quiet_ relatively clean room. They were "relaxing" in a set of chairs.

Finally Hermione huffed and stood up, pacing back and forth. Harry recognized this gesture. It meant that Hermione was about to launch into a prepared speech.

"This is stupid!" she announced after a few circuits.

"Oh, so I'm stupid now, is that it? Thought I couldn't handle anything worth actually knowing?" Harry sniped back, his temper having been just below boiling all day.

"I didn't say that Harry," Hermione said, stopping her pacing to narrow her eyes at him. "And I would very much appreciate it if you didn't put words into my mouth."

"That's the only way I'll ever get you to say anything to me, so why shouldn't I?" he returned belligerently.

Hermione crossed her arms. "I _can't_ say anything to you; every time I do you bite my head off for something I couldn't control!"

"Oh please," Harry scoffed, "I'm willing to bet that between the two of you and Dumbledore, you could have found a way to get me some kind of information. All I needed was a little, just some reassurances!"

Hermione, though her gaze softened minutely, continued to glare at him and Ron was looking at him funny from his seat.

"With everything that's gone on, with..." he'd almost brought up Cedric and he really didn't want to do that, "with what happened at the end of the year. I needed someone, and I couldn't count on you two. Some friends you are."

He was perversely satisfied to see them both wince.

"Be that as it may," Hermione eventually continued, "we did what the Headmaster told us to. If you had been here and it was one of us in your place, you would've done the same."

"I would not! I would've found a way!"

Hermione gave him her look. The look that told him he was being rather moronic. "Your friend is as safe as Professor Dumbledore can make him; he's guarded 'round the clock, he's heavily warded, and you know that within six to eight weeks you'll be seeing him again. I know you well enough by now, Harry; our emotional state wouldn't have even been a factor for you...you just don't think that way."

Harry continued to glare at her, only remaining silent because he couldn't think of a good rebuttal.

"You still...you could've...Order members! That's it, you could've sent me mail through them!" he pointed out, sticking his chin out defiantly.

Hermione sighed and shook her head. Ron continued to study him oddly.

"No, Harry," she said sadly, "we couldn't have."

"And why's that?"

"First, they aren't our personal mail service. They're volunteers in the fight against You-Know-Who."

Hermione ticked one of her fingers, apparently counting down the many ways Harry was wrong.

"Second, Order members could probably have been intercepted even easier than an owl. At least they're small and airborne."

Another finger down.

"Lastly, we really didn't no much more than you did, and the majority of what we did know was protected by the Fidelius."

In the back of his mind, a voice told him that she had made some good points. The rest of him continued to glare stubbornly at his two best friends.

"The plain and simple fact, Harry," Hermione went on, "is that there was nothing of importance we could've told you."

Harry continued to glare.

"Look," Ron finally spoke up, standing as he did so, "it doesn't really matter, does it? You don't care what we have to say, 'cause you're not really mad at us, you're mad at everything that's happened, and you need something or someone to blame."

Hermione looked at Ron in shock. Harry did his best to cover his own surprise at such a...well thought out statement from Ron. He actually spoke like he understood Harry's problems.

"Hermione sat up all night planning out what she would say to you. Thinking up ways to make you see that we didn't want to keep things from you, it's just that we didn't have anything that we could say!"

Ron turned and moved to the door, stopping with his hand on the handle. "Look mate, the owl flies both ways. You never told us what you were feeling; you never talked to us about what happened in that graveyard. How're we supposed to help with that when we don't know how?"

He paused long enough to open the door.

"You're still my best friend, Harry, but I don't want to be around you if you're just gonna take out all of your problems on me." And he left.

Hermione had tears running down her cheeks now. "If...if you ever want to talk about it, I'll listen and do what I can to help. Please, Harry, we never wanted to keep anything from you! Don't push us away."

He stiffened when she shot forward and gave him a quick hug before she fled the room.

Harry sat for quite a while, alone with his thoughts. A part of him knew that Hermione was right, as usual, and even Ron had made sense, but he still had a lot of bitter feelings, and as his nearest and dearest, they were taking the brunt of them.

He certainly hadn't forgiven them, by any means, but maybe, just maybe he wasn't so angry at them either.

_**

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**_

Grimmauld Place, Later That Evening.

Tonks couldn't understand it.

Harry had seemed relatively upbeat when she'd left that morning. What could have happened to sour his mood so much?

She had told him everything hadn't she? Everything except the prophecy; Dumbledore had made it perfectly clear that he was not to know about it, which she thought made it rather obvious that it involved him somehow, though she could be wrong.

Either way, that was a one way ticket to being obliviated and removed from the Order. There was no way he could be angry about not being told something.

She'd dropped by Headquarters as soon as she'd gotten off work. Kingsley had let her go early, claiming that there was nothing for her to do, despite the rather large pile of documents in his 'in' tray. She liked Kingsley, he was a good sort.

When she arrived, still fuming about Umbridge, she found a forlorn Harry sitting by himself in the kitchen.

"What's wrong?" she finally asked; feeling that urge again, the urge to fix his problems and make him smile.

Harry considered her for a moment. "Nothing," he eventually said.

That was the worst attempt at lying she had ever seen. His eyes were far too expressive, he was still all tensed up, and he was staring at the table like someone had carved the meaning of life into it, and the meaning really pissed him off.

Yeah, she knew he was lying, but the question was should she get the truth forcefully, by out-stubborning him as she had earlier, or should she cheer him up and _then_ wheedle it out of him.

Deciding that having a battle of wills twice in one day was a bad idea, and that he looked more upset than troubled, she settled on the more caring approach.

Sliding into a chair across from him, Tonks considered an exact plan of action for a moment, then her face lit up in a smile. Her eyes screwed closed and she concentrated for a moment, feeling her magic tingling and bubbling through her.

"Hey Harry, look!" she said, opening her eyes.

Her nose had been replaced by a bright, orangish-yellow duck bill. Harry looked up at her blandly.

"Quack, quack," she said with a flirtatious wink.

She thought she saw a brief quirk in his facial muscles before he looked back down, apparently unimpressed.

Frowning for a moment, she moved on to her next attempt. After another moment of concentration, she now had a nose that was a dead ringer for Snape's.

"I'm an arrogant, insufferable git!" she stated proudly, drawing Harry's attention again. She quickly lengthened and darkened her hair to add to the Snape effect.

A small exhalation escaped Harry's nostrils...almost a snort. He looked down again.

"A tough customer, eh?" she said in Snape's voice, deliberately hamming it up.

She had been prepared for his dismissal that time, and already had her next nose lined up. Her hair and nose shrank; the hair returning to its original state and the nose changing into a pig's snout.

Tonks let loose a loud snort. Harry looked up. His eyes softened a bit, and she saw a slightly more pronounced quirk in his expression this time...getting there.

A moment of inspiration struck her as he looked away for a moment. She focused and felt the features of her face and hair melting away.

Carefully contorting her face properly, she said, "Look Harry, I'm a pig!"

He looked up into the face of Vernon Dursley. It was an unnatural shade of pink and his relatively normal nose had been replaced by a pig snout. She did her best to create the stupidest facial expression she could. It wasn't the funniest thing she'd ever done, and certainly not the cleverest, but she felt it might strike a chord with Harry.

And so it did. Harry chuckled briefly and smiled, and, smiling in return, she morphed her face back to normal.

"Finally, a smile, I thought I was going to have to break out the hard stuff!" she said brightly.

Slowly, his smile faded away, and she felt the need to strike while the iron was hot. "So?"

"What?" he asked, confused.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong or not?"

He looked across the table at her as if he were weighing her; measuring her up against some standard that she didn't know about.

"I had an argument with Ron and Hermione."

Apparently, she had measured up well enough.

"What about?" she asked.

Harry shifted uncomfortably, his eyes looking elsewhere. "I'd really rather not talk about it, Tonks."

She cleared her throat and looked at him pointedly. It took him a second to puzzle it out before a look of comprehension dawned on his face...he actually smiled again.

"Right, you're stubborn as a rock. Sorry, I forgot."

And so he told her. Over the next several minutes he went into how he'd felt over the summer: abandoned, isolated, like people thought he was too delicate to handle what was going on.

He went over his argument with his best friends as close to verbatim as he could.

Once he'd finished speaking, Tonks sat for a few moments, thinking carefully.

"Look," she finally said, "I'm certainly not going to say you don't have a right to be angry. Some rules are so stupid that they _should_ be broken, and this sounds like one of 'em."

She paused and looked at him, grabbing and squeezing his hand warmly. "But they do have a point. Maybe you're angry with the wrong people."

Harry looked at her quizzically.

"They weren't the ones who decided you didn't need to know anything. It wasn't their decision, it was Dumbledore's. And, despite the fact that this all does seem kind of cruel, maybe he has a good reason? He is Dumbledore after all."

She paused for a moment to collect her thoughts, her dark eyes never leaving Harry's face. He only seemed slightly receptive to what she had to say, but it was better than nothing.

Deciding that convincing him to forgive his friends was a lost cause for now, she changed tack, going for casual conversation.

"So," she began, waving her wand and summoning a couple of bottles of butterbeer for them, "given any thought to what you're gonna do once you're finished with school?"

To her surprise, he blushed a little.

"I...er..." he stammered nervously, "...well, I thought...maybe an...auror?" He slowly descended into mumbling as he spoke; by the time he got to "auror" he was almost unintelligible.

"Really?" she asked. "That'd be great!"

He brightened under her obvious approval. "Yeah, Moody - well...the fake Moody actually - he gave me the idea. Told me I had the mind for it."

A mischievous and technically illegal idea struck her just then, but there was nothing really _wrong_ about it. Tonks considered for a moment, weighing pros and cons in her head.

_Go for it or don't go for it?_ she asked herself. Sparing a glance at Harry, who still looked somewhat downtrodden, her mind made itself up. _Definitely go for it._

She leaned forward conspiratorially.

"Say," she stage-whispered, while grinning impishly, "how would you like to get a little head-start on auror training?"

His face lit up like a lumos charm for a moment, before it contorted into confusion. "But, what about underage magic?" he asked.

"Well, technically, when you're with an auror - that's me - you're with ministry personnel. I have the authority to sign off on any magic you do..." She put a disapproving face on, "...but that would be too inconvenient, having to write a response for each warning you get for underage magic."

Harry looked crestfallen. Tonks felt a little like snickering herself.

"But," he looked back up, hope in his eyes, "You-Know-Who himself couldn't find this place. What makes you think the Ministry would even know this house exists, much less be able to detect underage magic here?"

"So, they can't?" he asked excitedly.

"Nope, you could cast every spell you knew, right here, right now, and no one would ever know."

"That's brilliant!" he said. "Wait...how come no one told me about it?" he asked, his face starting to darken again.

Before he could turn it into a personal insult, Tonks rushed to cut him off. "None of the kids do. The adults didn't want to encourage you all to break the law."

"Aren't you an auror, you know, defender of the law and all that?" he asked by way of counter-point, smirking amusedly at her.

"Doesn't mean I don't know how to break a rule or two when the occasion calls for it!" she said a little defensively.

Apparently afraid he'd offended her, Harry quickly changed the subject. "So, what are you going to teach me?"

"We're going to start out with levitation," she said as normally as she could.

_Wait for it...wait for it..._

"Huh?"

Ah yes, she remembered when her own face had that gob smacked, 'wachoo talkin' 'bout Willis' look on it just a few years ago.

"Levitation."

"You...d'you mean like 'swish-and-flick' and '_Wingardium Leviosa_?'" he asked incredulously.

She nodded and grinned happily. "Yep."

"Oh _ha, ha,"_ he said irritably.

"It's not a joke Harry. This is how the first six months of auror training go."

The poor boy looked so confused. "I...I don't get it."

"Ah don't worry about it. I reacted the exact same way my first day. The point is that even the most simple spells can have a use in combat, so the first six months of training are spent teaching you different ways to use them," Tonks explained calmly, switching to her professinal 'auror' voice.

"But what good would a first year spell possibly do against someone using shield charms and reductor curses, or even worse, the Unforgivables?" he reasoned.

"I'll show you. Let's duel, you and I. I'll restrict myself to first and second year spells. You can use anything you want - well...nothing dark, obviously, but you get the idea."

She stood and motioned for him to follow, and, once he'd complied, she levitated the table and chairs out of the way. Having cleared as much as possible, she surveyed the room with a critical eye.

"Bit cramped for dueling, but it'll do," she announced, walking to the opposite end of the kitchen. "Okay, salute and bow and all of that, then I'll count us down from three."

Tonks' salute was little more than a cheeky grin while she touched the tip of her wand to her forehead, like she was tipping a hat, and her bow was just a nod. Harry either didn't notice or didn't let it bother him.

"Three..." Harry dropped into a decent stance, wand in front and body turned to the side to make a narrower target, "...two..." Tonks took up her own stance, a little more square to her opponent, with her body lowered more than Harry's, "...one..." they each took a preparatory breath, "...go!"

Tonks aimed her wand at Harry and fired off a jelly-legs jinx, but he was already rolling to the side, coming up just short of banging himself up against the kitchen wall.

"_Stupefy!_" he shouted, sending a red beam at her. She lazily side stepped, outwardly appearing unimpressed. Inside, she was cheering. He had already learned not to sit still, a lesson that some fully trained aurors never really learned.

Her retaliation was a simple disarming spell - the most complex spell she'd probably use in this duel - which Harry nimbly ducked.

Tonks was forced to take a step back when his return volley - a reductor curse - blasted the tiles in front of her feet. Thinking on the fly, she levitated a few shards of tile and transfigured them into tiny needles.

Ducking and dodging, she stalled for time while she maneuvered her transfigured weapons above Harry's head. She didn't realize that she was actually utilizing a strategy Ron Weasley had stumbled on in Harry's first year...minus the troll and his club, of course.

Finally in place, she let them drop and shot a disarming spell at him.

The tiny irritating pinpricks were enough to distract him. He avoided the spell by staggering back and turning to the right, but he was off balance now, and she was out of his line of sight.

Just to prove her point, she levitated his shirt up and wrapped it around his head before she successfully disarmed him.

Harry regained his footing and righted his shirt, blushing profusely. Tonks did her best to hide her disgust at the obvious signs of slight malnutrition that his exposed torso had shown. He was _way_ to skinny.

"Good duel," she said amiably, trying to break the tension, "Crouch Jr. was right; you do have the makings of a good auror."

"Are you kidding?" he blustered in frustration, "you beat me with first year spells and you think I'd make a good auror?"

"Yes," she said calmly and honestly, "first-year trainees - fully qualified witches and wizards mind you - never win this duel, and they have a few more years of experience and spells under their belts than you do. You already seem to have a good grasp of some of the basics."

This seemed to mollify him a little. She continued with her candid critique. "You move well, something that a lot very decent aurors never learn to do."

Harry went from slightly mollified to smiling. "You didn't make the rookie mistake of just aiming at my torso and blasting away; you tried to take my feet out from under me, you varied your spells, and, even though you lost, you put up a better fight than I expected."

He was positively beaming now. "Now, now, don't get too cocky. You aren't really as good as you'd need to be if you want to be an auror, but you're a lot better than most people your age are."

"Will you teach me more?" he asked eagerly.

"Of course I will, but you have to work on levitation first," she pointed out.

An idea occurred to her while she watched his bright smile and happily glittering eyes. "I'll train you _and_ your friends whenever I'm around...and we can sneak off from the 'authority figures.'"

"Great!" he agreed without a second thought.

It was almost as though his bad mood had never existed, _and_ she was going to be forcing him to spend time with his friends, time spent doing something that wasn't as mind numbing as _cleaning_ (Tonks inwardly shuddered at the thought of the dreaded c-word).

_Mission accomplished,_ she thought with a smile.

It never occurred to her that she hadn't even thought about that horrible Umbridge woman once since she'd started talking to Harry, nor had she noticed that her spiky pink hair was now spiky green.

_**

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**_

Somewhere in London.

In all of her eleven years of life, Nydia had never been this scared, not even when her home had been attacked.

She had no clue where she was. The streets were dark, the smells were overwhelming, and the looks she was getting from some of the strange men wandering the streets were unnerving.

She wanted her parents, especially her mother, with her soothing words and gentle arms. Her mother always made her feel better.

Her instincts were still lighting the way for her. It was like she was following a thread only she could see, and that kept her from bolting into the nearest well lit building. Now wasn't the time to stop.

Now was the time to move. Especially with that burning barrel so close...she didn't like fire.

Her father had always told her that she had to face what she feared, but her father was gone, and that fire was _too_ close and it was dark and she still hadn't found what she needed. Her instincts drove her to move, to stay away, so she listened.

The figurative thread she followed turned, leading her into a dilapidated looking neighborhood. Walking down the street as quickly as she could, arms pulled tight around her protectively, she followed the thread religiously.

At least, that is, until it suddenly stopped. She'd reached the end of the thread...but it led nowhere.

Her head turned back and forth, tossing her straggly brown hair with it as she looked for a clue that might tell her what was going on, how this could've happened.

Nothing.

But something was wrong, that much she knew. She could still feel it. That something that was so addictive, it was here...she just couldn't find it.

_Something is definitely odd about this 'Grimmauld Place,' she decided._

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A/N: The end of Chapter 3!

**Thanks for all the reviews so far guys, it's nice that this story has been well received.**

**The plot has started some noticeable deviation from OotP now, at least I hope it's noticeable, by the end, it should bear little resemblance to it at all.**

**A couple of questions have been asked about when or how Harry and Tonks will be getting together. I'm not telling, that's giving too much away, but I will say this: I am doing my best to build a believable, complex relationship between the two. It takes time, it has to start with a base, and the best base is friendship. So, if you're hoping for them to be sharing a bed in the next few chapters, don't hold your breath, any bed sharing will come later ;)**

**As a final note, keep in mind that this was the last chapter I had any pre-writing done on, so you can expect updates to come a little farther apart now (not to mention the new Naruto story I'm in the preplanning stages for...that might slow me down just a little, but I won't let it interfere too much).**

**As always, read, review, let me know what you think!**

**Cid**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I, much to my great regret, do not own Harry Potter or any associated names etc...the only thing about this fic I have any claim on is the AU plot - whether that is a good thing or not remains to be seen.**

**Now, on with the show!**

**

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Shifters

**Chapter 4 - Crises**

_"Sooner or later comes a crisis in our affairs, and how we meet it determines our future happiness and success."_

- Robert Collier, Motivational Author

_**

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Number 12, Grimmauld Place, August 10th, 1995

Over the next week, Tonks met with Harry and his friends three more times, though Mrs. Weasley cut their third session short when she almost caught them.

Judging from several of her comments, he was starting to think that Tonks' main motivation for including Ron and Hermione (and Ginny, at Tonks' insistence) was to force him to spend time with them, to face their current issues. So far, that plan had experienced very mediocre success.

Ron had the same reaction to their area of study that Harry had experienced himself...he scoffed and poked fun at the idea. Harry very much enjoyed watching someone else learn the lesson the hard way.

At least they had all learned how to think strategically and make use of the levitation charm fairly well. Tonks promised to introduce basic transfiguration during their next session.

Despite Tonks' ulterior motives, Harry found himself really enjoying their 'study sessions.' They weren't cleaning, they were learning something that he found interesting, and it was nice to have fun with his friends again, even if it was just for a few minutes every other day or so.

Currently, he and Ron were having a friendly game of chess in the library.

Well...somewhat friendly.

Harry was being slightly less frosty anyway.

Hermione and Ginny were whispering in the corner and casting them furtive glances before hastily turning away and covering their mouths...Harry didn't want to know.

"Psst!" whispered a voice from the door. "Wotcher you four!"

Harry smiled warmly. "Tonks!"

"Shh!" she hissed, putting a finger to her lips and stepping inside. "Molly's just started dinner and everyone else is out for now...you chaps up for a lesson?"

"Well...we were kind of in the middle-"

"Checkmate," said Ron proudly.

"Um...yeah, I guess we are."

The other three enthusiastically agreed and gathered around Tonks.

"Right," she said, reverting to a normal tone of voice and pulling out her wand; the four teenagers followed suit - Tonks waved hers around, casting a variety of spells, the only one Harry recognized was a silencing charm. "Today, we're gonna cover the uses of basic transfiguration - that's one dense inanimate object into another - in combat."

"Like how you turned those splinters into needles under Ron's feet?" asked Ginny with a cheeky grin.

"Exactly!" Tonks replied. Ron bowed his head, cheeks flaming, and muttered under his breath. Oddly, he reminded Harry of Kreacher when he did that. "Now, I want you guys to give me some good examples of using this kind of transfiguration in a fight."

"Um...could you transfigure the other guy's wand?" Harry asked a little timidly.

"No," Tonks answered with a smile on her face, "but good question. I asked my first mentor the exact same one. You see, wands are very magical by nature, and share an intimate bond with their master. Something like that is almost impossible to transfigure; especially fast enough to be useful in a fight."

She looked around at the group. "Next?"

"You could pick up anything of the appropriate density - like a rock or a stick - and throw it at your opponent, transfiguring it into a lethal weapon in midair," said Hermione matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, that could work, but you'd need to be really fast with your wand," Tonks pointed out.

"I'd transfigure the crotch of their pants into wood...very snug fitting wood...with splinters," was Ginny's idea. Harry cringed; he thought he saw Ron shudder out of the corner of his eye.

"Ooo, I like the way you think, girly," Tonks said with a devious smile and a wink, "that would definitely work, if their pants are dense enough."

Harry and Ron exchanged a nervous glance and moved closer together; for the moment, they shared a common enemy: the scary, crotch-targeting women.

"Ron?" Tonks turned towards them, "it's your turn."

He gulped. "Err...you could...turn their shoes into metal?"

Ginny scoffed, "How would that help? They'd still have their wand and you wouldn't have done any damage to them!"

"Not necessarily true, Ginny," Tonks interrupted in a gently chiding voice, "It would limit their mobility which is valuable -" Ron smiled widely, shooting a triumphant look at Ginny, "- but you'd have to do _two_ transfigurations for that, unless they're wearing steel-toed boots or something. Leather isn't dense enough for a quick transfiguration into metal."

Tonks looked around for a moment, surveying the room.

"Right...so here's what we're going to do with your suggestions: we're going to try them out."

They all showed varying levels of excitement at that. This was the really fun part of it: breaking the rules and doing magic.

Tonks quickly conjured up several blocks of wood (Harry noticed that they all said 'Tonks' in emerald green, instead of the usual random letters of the alphabet). Next, she transfigured an old, unused desk chair into a bull's eye.

"First, we'll try Hermione's idea. You're each going to get a few chances to throw a block at the target and transfigure it in midair."

Since it was Hermione's idea, Tonks offered her the first go. Her block didn't change into an ornate looking dagger until it was on the way to the ground.

Ginny picked up a block next. Hers changed into a vicious looking kitchen knife just after it bounced off.

Out of all four of them, only Ron and Harry's blocks did anything before they started their descent.

Harry's changed right as it hit, but, having already lost its momentum on impact, all the rather blunt looking spike did was scratch the target as it began to fall.

Ron's, on the other hand, changed in midair; it would've been great, except...

"A roasted chicken?" Hermione questioned him, Ginny and Tonks were giggling uncontrollably and Harry couldn't help but smirk at him. "You were going to attack the dark wizard with a roasted chicken?"

"I'm hungry, all right!" Ron shouted. His entire head was Weasley red now. "I can't think straight when I'm hungry."

"Right," Tonks interrupted the impending argument, still chuckling mildly, "quick wand-work there, Ron...just need to work on your concentration. That chicken does look lovely, though."

The metamorphmagus conjured another set of blocks, ignoring the snorts of laughter. "Okay, let's give that one another try before we move on to Ron's idea."

Just as Hermione was making her second attempt, the door to the library burst open. The untransfigured block clacked off the target and fell to the floor, unnoticed.

"Guess whose back from St. Mungo's!" bellowed Sirius happily as he and Remus Lupin tumbled into the room.

Both men stopped and stared at the sight before them. Hermione still had her wand pointed at the target and the rest of them were attempting to put their own wands away surreptitiously.

"Moony," said Sirius, not taking his eyes off the scene, "I do believe we have some rule-breakers in our midst."

"Indeed we do!" agreed Remus, smirking at them amusedly.

"Sirius, Remus, so good to see you!" said Tonks amiably, though her eyes darted nervously around the room, "er...nothing to see here, we're just um...cleaning."

"Now, now, Nymphy -" Tonks bristled "- no need to lie. We're very proud of you guys, right Moony?"

"Padfoot, I've never been more impressed by our young Mr. Potter and his friends than I am right now!" Remus said, placing a hand over his heart in mock pride. "Almost makes me want to cry!"

"So, what's going on in here?" Sirius asked.

"Training," Tonks answered blithely, apparently satisfied that they weren't in any trouble.

"Aw, damn, you're not planning a prank?" said Sirius dejectedly. Remus simply raised a curious eyebrow.

"Nope,"

"What kind of training?" Remus asked, openly ignoring his fellow Marauder's carefully affected expression of disapproval.

"Harry mentioned that he wanted to be an auror, so I offered to give him a head start...didn't feel right not to include the others once we'd started."

Sirius sighed in mock-disappointment. "Well, at least it _is _rule breaking...I suppose it's a start." He turned and walked out of the room, muttering to himself. Harry could've sworn he heard the phrase 'godfatherly duty' in the mix.

Remus just shook his head and chuckled. "The _actual_ reason we came up here was to tell you that dinner is ready," he said. "I would hurry down if you don't want her to catch you."

That was all the encouragement they needed.

_**

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Number, 12, Grimmauld Place, Dinner That Evening.

Sirius was ecstatic.

James' son, his own godson, was doing blatant underage magic! He watched the boy, who was chatting animatedly with Tonks and his friends about it (Sirius thought they were a bit too loud really; especially if they didn't want Molly to overhear).

Yes, it was definitely time.

He leaned toward his oldest remaining friend. "Remus! D'you still have the Book?" he mumbled secretively.

Remus sighed. "I've never understood why you and James talk about it like it's the Holy Grail or something."

Sirius stared at him indignantly. The ragged werewolf rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I know, 'Marauder history' and all that," he said in a voice that Sirius wasn't entirely sure was appropriately apologetic. "And yes, I've still got it."

They both glanced at Harry who - judging by the pink of Ron's cheeks - was chuckling at something his red headed friend had done.

"So, you think he's ready?" Remus asked.

"He's around the same age that we were, and he'll have you and me helping him."

"True enough," Remus agreed. Sirius felt a warm, proud feeling settle in his chest. It always felt good when Remus admitted he was right about something...it was just such a rare thing. "What about the others?"

"We start with him," Sirius said with conviction. "It's his heritage, if he wants to bring his friends in later, then we will. He needs this Moony, this could help him survive!"

Remus shot him a funny look. "You don't have to convince me Padfoot. You and I both know James would've wanted this for him."

"Lily, too, though she'd never admit it out loud," Sirius interjected.

A brief, loud clatter of dishes drew their attention. Harry was heading toward the sink with a stack of dirty plates and Tonks was right behind him, balancing her own pile. Sirius sincerely hoped she didn't break any more of his dishes.

He gazed at his godson with a proud smile, unaware that the expression was mirrored on Remus' face.

The pair of dishwashers reached the sink and immediately settled into work. As Sirius watched, he grew more and more puzzled.

Tonks washed a dish and handed it to Harry; Harry dried it and set it aside into another stack; then they repeated the process...nothing too odd there. A few words drifted back to him, and the nearest he could tell, they were discussing the next phase of their training.

What puzzled him, really, was the fact that they never looked at each other. They never gave a spoken direction. They were moving in tandem without any difficulty whatsoever when they should have had no clue what the other was doing - almost as if they'd rehearsed it.

The two Marauders exchanged a bemused look.

Finally, Remus shrugged, seeming to dismiss it as coincidence. "I think you should run it by Tonks first. She seems to enjoy teaching them just as much as they enjoy learning from her; we wouldn't want to step on her toes."

"She _has_ been at headquarters more this past week than the rest of the summer put together," Sirius observed, running over the idea in his head. "You're probably right; I'll run it by her tonight."

"Tonks, Harry, you don't have to do that!" exclaimed Molly from behind them, a small note of panic in her voice. The two older troublemakers broke apart abruptly and tried to look innocent...it was ingrained instinct by now.

"But you never let me help in the kitchen!" Tonks whined...

_**

* * *

**_

Grimmauld Place, The Middle of the Street, August 11th, 1995, Early Morning

Nydia had just about had enough of this. She had been scrounging around in the back alleys up and down this street for days now, but something was interfering.

What she needed was not here, it couldn't be. Her instincts had given her no new nudges or pokes in another direction, but she could not ignore the evidence here...there was nothing to find. And the more she tried the more worried she became; what if it was _gone_...as in dead? Then she would never get it!

Suddenly, her instincts flared again, and a strong emotion surged through her. But it wasn't happiness, relief, or anything else she might have actually wanted to feel. It was fear.

It was the same feeling she had gotten when her home was attacked. The same impulse:

_Run!_

_**

* * *

**_

Meanwhile, Inside Grimmauld Place.

_The Hogwarts grounds looked so peaceful under the moonlight. He'd never really taken the time to notice it before, despite how much he loved this place._

_It was odd to feel so calm after all that had happened, but this scene certainly helped._

_"You're sure?" hissed a high, cold voice. "Do not fail me..." something interfered, Harry couldn't hear some of what was said "...pureblood..." more interference "...now!"_

_A howl shattered the serene silence..._

"Harry, wake up!" shouted Mrs. Weasley's voice through the door.

Harry was on his feet in an instant. He had never heard that kind of fear in the Weasley matron's voice before.

"I'm up!" he reassured her while he hurriedly gathered clothes, along with his wand and glasses.

"Get downstairs as quick as you can!" she replied, her voice fading as he heard her footsteps pounding away to the next bedroom.

He shrugged on his clothes as fast as possible and grabbed his invisibility cloak out of his trunk. Moments later, he came pounding down the stairs.

He could see Moody down the hall, looking through the window by the door at something out in the street. Remus and Sirius stood with Ron and Hermione, waiting for him, he assumed. Mundungus Fletcher sat at the table, looking scragglier than usual; his eyes were darting back and forth nervously and his fingers seemed to twitch spasmodically.

Harry approached Remus, Sirius, Ron, and Hermione.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Apparently someone's been wandering around outside for the last few days," said Remus, "the wards alerted us a moment ago that they had tried to enter the house." The werewolf's face was marred with a concerned frown

"Yeah, Moody sent out an alarm ten minutes ago, said he's been watching 'em watching us all morning," Sirius piped in, apparently unconcerned.

Harry was starting to feel a little concerned himself. "Death Eaters?" he asked, doing his best to keep his voice steady.

"Maybe," Sirius responded, shrugging his shoulders. "Whoever it is isn't in a black robe and a mask, so unless one of us goes out there and says 'excuse me, are you a Death Eater?' I don't think we're going to find out right now."

Ron snorted. Hermione's face reflected Harry's own concern. "But, what about the Fidelius Charm?" she asked. "It's impossible to even know this house exists unless the Secret-Keeper reveals the information."

"Yes, and I doubt Albus just walks around telling random strangers," agreed Remus.

Just then, Ginny and the twins were ushered down the stairs by a slightly frantic Molly Weasley.

"Get them down below, Remus," she said, nudging her remaining children towards them before she turned and walked back towards the front door.

Harry felt a little peeved about that. He was fairly certain that besides Mad-Eye, and maybe Remus and Sirius, he was the most experienced person here when it came to life or death fights.

"Don't worry Molly, we'll keep them safe," the worried werewolf assured her.

Harry gritted his teeth.

Suddenly, he felt a friendly hand on his shoulder and looked into the vaguely amused eyes of Sirius. The older man rolled his eyes at the other adults and winked at him.

The tension eased, at least a little. Apparently at least one adult found the mollycoddling as unnecessary as he did.

Quickly, Remus urged them all down the stairs and into a rather..._armored_ room that Harry had never seen before. At least, armored was the best description Harry could come up with. Large metal plates seemed to adorn the wall at random, thick bars reinforced the door, and there were no windows whatsoever.

"This is where I come during the full moon most nights," Remus said, seeing the curious looks on all of the kids' faces. "I guess it also doubles as a kind of panic room."

"Looks...er...homey," said Ron, looking around with a slightly disturbed expression. Hermione smacked his arm...everyone else just snickered, even Remus, though he hid it behind his hand.

"Homey or not, you'll be safe here," Remus answered.

"Safe from what, exactly?" Harry asked, growing suspicious when Remus shifted nervously...

_**

* * *

**_

Ministry of Magic, August 11th, 1995.

While the emergency at Grimmauld Place was playing out, Tonks was fuming - as quietly as possible - in her cubicle. _Lost payroll my pretty pink arse!_ She had seen the smug look on Umbridge's face on her way out of the office, and she'd never heard of an auror's pay going 'missing,' nor could she think of any plausible reason for Umbridge to have been there besides gloating.

It was clear that the toad woman was taking out her own little petty revenge, and Tonks was sure that delayed pay would only be the beginning. Oh how she wanted to pay that woman back.

The next few minutes were spent pleasantly imagining the many wonderful ways that she could exact her revenge...turning every pink thing the woman owned (which seemed to be _everything_ she owned) black...permanently transfiguring her into a toad - though she'd have to do a fair bit of research on how to make that one work...making her sing 'I'm a Spineless Suck-Up' to the tune of 'I'm a Little Teapot'...the possibilities were endless.

During a particularly fun fantasy that involved Tonks becoming Minister of Magic and demoting Umbridge to permanent toilet duty, Tonks felt a tug on her magic. The wards at Grimmauld place; someone unauthorized had tried to breach them.

She felt a flutter of fear.

_Headquarters is one of the most secure places on the planet,_ she reassured herself, _nothing bad is going to happen, no one is even going to make it inside..._

But what if they did?

Her Order sickle started vibrating like mad, almost to the point that it was painful. Starting to feel a little panicky now, she snaked a hand into the pocket of her loose fitting jeans and rubbed the sickle.

_Full alert!_ shouted Moody's voice in her head. Two little words; two little words that set her heart to beating a thousand miles a minute and her breath to heaving in and out like a set of bellows. Tonks jumped to her feet and pelted towards the door.

"Family emergency!" she shouted in the general direction of her boss's office as she passed.

What if Death Eaters were inside? What if they were torturing Harry and the other kids? So many things were rushing through her head at once that she was surprised she hadn't fainted.

_Why in all he bloody hells is this lift so slow!_

She pounded the button repeatedly. Finally, the gate clattered open and she hurled herself in, jamming the button for the atrium like it was her sole mission in life.

After an eternity, the lift deposited her in the Atrium and she sprinted toward the apparition point, shouldering people out of her way and ignoring their protests. The moment she had both feet inside the ornate circle of the apparition point, she turned on the spot and disappeared with a loud crack; a terrible vision of a tormented green eyes was the last thought she had.

The black tightness receded to show her an empty street and a perfectly intact headquarters. The young auror looked around cautiously, wand out and ready; nothing odd was going on that she could see. Satisfied that the outside was clear, she hurried to the door.

Inside, she found Molly and Mad-Eye on either side of the door, looking out the windows.

"What's going on?" she demanded after she'd shut the door...a little too loudly, if Mrs. Black's screams were anything to go by.

Molly, who turned to glare at Moody, spoke up first. "Alastor here saw a young girl watching the house and overreacted."

"I didn't overreact! That girl could've been a spy! She could've been under the Imperious! She tried to get through the wards!"

Tonks looked back and forth between them incredulously, feeling her temper starting to spark.

"The poor thing was far too thin, and she looked like she hadn't bathed for days...oh I should've gone to her before she left," Molly fretted.

"Secret headquarters are called _secret _for a reason, Molly!" Moody retorted.

"This is all because of some little girl?!" Tonks screeched angrily, unaware that somewhere below her, Harry was bellowing the exact same thing.

The vexed young auror whirled to face Moody directly. "You called me away from work because of a street urchin?" she demanded. Moody seemed supremely unaffected, but Molly dithered about a bit, attempting to calm her.

"I'm going to lose half a day's pay because of this! I can't go back now, or Scrimgeour will ask questions!" she blustered on, letting all of her previous frustration pour into her rant.

She had hit such a stride that no one noticed the flash of phoenix fire or the flare of the floo in the den.

"Quiet!" barked Moody, his eyes still pasted to the window. "Death Eaters!"

Tonks closed the gates on her frustration for now and moved forward to investigate. They were still popping in, black cloaks standing out in the morning light and white masks reflecting the rising sun. Half a dozen of them arrived before the cracks of apparition ceased.

"Do they know we're here?" she asked in her 'auror voice.'

"That, Nymphadora, is quite impossible, I assure you," someone replied from behind her.

Tonks whirled, surprised to find Dumbledore and Arthur Weasley behind them.

"Arthur!" Molly cried, sprinting forward and pulling her husband into a tight hug.

"Took you long enough," Moody grumbled as Dumbledore moved up between him and Tonks, peering out the windows.

"I apologize, but I was under the impression that arriving naked would have been rather...disturbing for all parties involved," the old man replied with a hint of amusement, even as his blue eyes turned to steel while they watched the Death Eaters.

Tonks didn't bother to suppress her unladylike snort.

"Are you going to capture them, Albus?" Molly asked. Tonks actually tried to suppress her snort this time and was marginally successful. Despite the fact that she could be very overbearing, Tonks actually liked the Weasley Matriarch and had no desire to embarrass her. She was nice, generally, and usually only became overbearing when she thought she was protecting those she cared about.

"No," he answered.

Noting the incredulous looks he got from Molly and Arthur, Dumbledore hastened to reassure them. "Do not misunderstand; capturing them would be a superb idea, but not here. It would not do to risk one of them escaping and compromising our security." With looks of dawning comprehension, the Weasleys nodded.

All conversation halted when they heard the fireplace in the den flare to life again.

Kingsley came sprinting into the room, belting his trousers up as he ran. "Sorry I'm late; I was asleep when my sickle went off the first few times."

He was largely ignored, only Molly turned to greet him, everyone else was watching the Death Eaters slowly make their way down the street, searching for something.

"So, what's the emergency?" Kingsley asked.

"Death Eaters," Moody answered succinctly.

Adopting the stern, serious look that Tonks had come to associate with most Aurors on the job; Kingsley stepped forward to get a glimpse through the window along with them.

"Have they found us?" he asked.

Before anyone could respond, the Death Eaters, as one, disapparated. "Guess not," he answered himself dryly

A commotion coming from the basement drew their attention. "Harry, wait!" shouted Remus's voice.

An irate Harry Potter came stomping up the stairs and didn't even bat an eyelash at the assembled witches and wizards. Instead, he stormed over to Moody, stopped two feet in front of the most intimidating wizard there, and proceeded to give him an earful. Tonks couldn't help but smile at the bits of herself she saw in Harry's attitude.

_**

* * *

**_

Grimmauld Place, Just After Dinner, Later That Evening.

"That was the first time I've seen Albus here since we picked up Harry," Tonks noted absently. She, Remus, Kingsley, and Moody were all sitting around the table, sharing a post dinner cup of tea.

"I believe he's been struggling to fill the Defense Against the Dark Arts post," Remus supplied, sipping his tea.

"He has seemed rather stressed lately," Kingsley agreed.

Moody leaned forward, his magical eye whirling all around. "Some of my old friends went on to join the Wizengamot after they retired. Word from them is the Minister's pushing a new Educational Decree through for a vote tomorrow."

"A new one?" Remus asked. "I thought the last decree gave Hogwarts its autonomy, and that was over a hundred years ago."

Moody snorted. "You really think Fudge, as paranoid as he is, would let Dumbledore keep his own private training grounds?"

Tonks couldn't help but laugh at that. "What? He thinks the Professor is turning the students into an army or something?"

"Exactly," Moody nodded. Everyone at the table made various noises of disgust or amusement.

She could only shake her head at the absurdity of it all. "So, what's this new decree about?"

Moody relaxed back into his chair and propped his uninjured leg up on the table. "What it all boils down to is if Dumbledore can't fill a position on his own, then the Ministry'll assign a professor for him."

"And, since he's having trouble filling the Defense post..." Tonks said with dawning comprehension. Moody merely nodded in response.

"So, they're placing a spy in Hogwarts?" Kingsley asked.

Tonks, however, wasn't paying attention at the moment. She was reliving a conversation she'd had with an irritating toad lady.

"_I'm _so_ happy that Cornelius has installed me as the new Defense against the Dark Arts instructor. _Now_ we can be sure that the future of our world is properly educated!_"

She shivered involuntarily. _I didn't really take her seriously at first, _she thought, _poor Harry, having to deal with that bint all year._

Tonks shook herself out of her own private musings in time to hear Remus say, "If only I didn't have my...affliction. I rather enjoyed the position." The ragged man heaved a sigh, his face clouded with depression.

"Why don't you do it, Alastor?" Kingsley asked. Moody simply glared at him.

Tonks giggled. "Big bad Mad-Eye Moody is afraid of a school." Moody huffed and crossed his arms, grumbling under his breath.

"Well, he did get kidnapped and locked in his own trunk for ten months. You would probably be a little leery of the place after that too, Nymphadora." Remus said with a mischievous smirk on his face.

Tonks' stopped in mid-giggle. "Don't call me that!" she cried indignantly.

"It _is_ your name," Remus reasoned. Tonks drew her wand and pointed it at the table, vaguely in the direction of his crotch.

"Not if you ever want to have children it isn't!"

Remus grinned a grin that did not make it to his eyes, which had turned dark and melancholic. "Go ahead, not like werewolves can conceive anyway."

Tonks suddenly realized she'd hit a sensitive topic for him and put her wand away, intent on changing the subject as quickly as possible.

"So," she said, affecting a mysterious air, "have you and Sirius talked to Harry about the...thing?"

Remus's face lit up again at the mention of Harry. "That's what Sirius is doing right now, actually."

"What thing?" Kingsley asked curiously.

"Sorry, need to know only," Tonks said impishly. Remus adopted an officious air and nodded solemnly.

"Very hush-hush," the werewolf said.

Moody, who had been ignoring them since Tonks started teasing him, stood up. "Well, I've got better things to do," he huffed. Then, without a backwards glance, he stomped off.

The three remaining at the table watched after him. "I didn't realize he was so sensitive," said Kingsley.

Remus and Tonks couldn't help but laugh.

_**

* * *

**_

Meanwhile, In Harry's Room.

His godfather was being awfully mysterious. Harry smiled as he watched the man tiptoe exaggeratedly back to him after shutting the door behind Ron. Even when he was trying to be sneaky and underhanded, he couldn't help but have fun with it.

"What's this about, Sirius?" he asked.

Sirius looked around dramatically before he reached into his back pocket and pulled out an old, beaten up looking journal.

"This, Harry, is the Book," he said proudly.

Looking closely, Harry could see a title scrawled across the cover in sharp, cramped handwriting: "_The Marauder's Book of Marauding - How to be a Troublemaker_"

"In this book is everything you would ever need to know about being a Marauder, including..." Sirius trailed off and flipped to a previously marked page. At the top of the page, in the same sharp handwriting as the cover, were the words "_Animagi for the Common Miscreant_."

"You're going to teach me to be an Animagus?!" Harry exclaimed.

"Shh!" Sirius said, looking around nervously. "Keep it down, or Molly will have us strung up by the short-and-curlies!"

"You're going to teach me to be an Animagus?" he repeated in a whisper.

"Of course," Sirius nodded. "It's the least I can do as your godfather. Have to provide a proper example and all that."

"And being an illegal Animagus is a part of that?" Harry asked in an amused voice.

"Exactly!" Sirius answered earnestly. "I already ran it by Tonks, and she said it would be a great idea. So, when she's not here teaching you all, I'm going to be going through this with you."

For a moment, Harry wondered if he should ask about his friends. He was sure this was something they would want to learn. Then, of course, he remembered their recent argument.

_Let them go without knowing something for once, see how _they_ like it,_ he decided with little hesitation.

"Brilliant!" he said. "When do we start?"

Sirius handed him the book, an elated smile on his face. "Just read the bit about becoming one in there. I'm gonna go tell Moony you've started. Come to one of us if you have questions, or when you're through, and then we'll get started on the real work."

The Marauder started moving towards the door, a noticeable spring in his step. "Wait, Sirius!" Harry called. The older man turned around, a smile still splitting his face, and raised a curious eyebrow. "Thanks," he finished sincerely.

Sirius nodded, his smile growing even wider, if that were possible, and left. Turning back to his book, Harry began reading.

_"The first thing you need to know about being an Animagus is that only those as magnificently talented as us Marauders are capable of doing it..."_

_**

* * *

**_

Ministry of Magic, August 15th, 1995, 10:30 a.m.

Tonks was bloody miserable.

In less than a week, her job had become a living hell: Double shifts, weekend shifts, missing pay, shortened lunches, and punishment for fabricated mistakes. In addition, at least once a day, she saw the ugly, smug face of Delores Umbridge, and she felt her anger grow a little hotter, and a little hotter, and then even hotter.

Oh yes, she would make her pay, if it was the last thing she did, Tonks was going to make that _thing_ pay.

"Such a lovely day," said a voice from behind her...a high, girlish voice that set her teeth to grating.

"What do _you_ want?" Tonks asked sharply, without bothering to turn around. In response, a red slip of parchment was tossed over her shoulder, landing on her desk directly in front of her.

"Mr. Pinter, lovely young man that he is, was more than happy to tell me about you reading on the job instead of doing said job." Tonks' jaw locked up in anger.

_Nameless bastard,_ she thought to herself.

Umbridge gave one of her silly little fake giggles. "I thought it was my duty to inform Rufus of your negligence, and I was certain that you would want to hear of your suspension from me first, since we're such _great_ friends."

Tonks' wand was calling her from her pocket; she could hear it begging to curse the terrible rat-toad-thing, just once.

"How...kind..." she managed to grit out.

"Have a lovely day. I'm off to receive my new appointment at Hogwarts after lunch. Cornelius will be ever so happy to know he has someone he can trust at Hogwarts; someone that can put your hero, Mr. Potter, in his place."

Umbridge practically skipped away, like a frog chasing its meal.

Once she was sure she was gone, Tonks unfurled the notice of her suspension and froze.

_Six months? Six months for reading a newspaper? That's just...that can't be...I don't believe..._

She crumbled the notice up in her fists and clenched her burning eyes closed. A few tears of frustration leaked out anyways. She had always wanted to be an auror, ever since that horrible day in her third year. Learning to defend herself had become a priority after that, and preventing it from happening again, to her or someone else, had become one of her life's goals.

And now Umbridge was on the verge of taking it all away. Tonks was well aware that the next step after a six-month suspension was a pink slip...termination. And she had little doubt that Umbridge would dig and dig until she found a reason to give her that pink slip, no matter how inane that reason may seem.

Unbidden, thoughts of her brief yet undeniably nasty experience with Umbridge surfaced. All of her smug looks, her snide remarks about how she would set Harry straight, and how giggly she got when she talked about making things better at Hogwarts...

A wicked smile spread across her face. The multitude of pieces all clicked together into a wonderful idea in her head, the first part of her revenge.

Wiping the last of her tears from her face, she stood and strode proudly out of the office.

_**

* * *

**_

Ministry of Magic, August 15th, 1995, 11:15 a.m.

She watched the door patiently, cycling through different hairstyles and colors to pass the time.

When she first arrived and saw that the Wizengamot was still in session, she had worried that the delay would allow time for second thoughts. That she would begin to doubt herself.

However, every time any such doubts raised themselves, a picture of Delores Umbridge smiling widely would flash through her head and eliminate them.

Finally, the double doors of the Chamber opened and a buzzing crowd began to meander out. A tall figure with lots of white hair drew her attention. Pushing off the wall, she settled her hair into a short, wavy electric blue and marched over to him.

"Wotcher, Professor."

"Ah, good morning, Nymphadora -" Tonks gritted her teeth and rolled her eyes...the man just _always_ had to use her first name "- I assume you're curious about the results of our meeting?"

"Yes," she replied shortly.

"Despite my best efforts, I was only able to delay the inevitable. Cornelius's Decree has passed. I am given to understand he will be announcing someone after lunch this very day."

Tonks could see the haggard lines of his face that he tried to keep hidden behind a smile, but the brief stab of sympathy she felt would not deter her from capitalizing on the opportunity.

"I've heard that he plans on appointing Umbridge," she said.

"Indeed, that was his stated plan of action. I believe his exact words were that she 'would bring about great change in a flawed system.' I rather doubt that he came up with those words himself, just between you and me."

"There isn't anything you can do about it, Professor?" Tonks asked, doing her best to maneuver the conversation as innocently as she could.

"Not unless I can find a willing candidate before the end of lunch, no."

_Perfect._

"You know, Professor, I've always wanted to try my hand at teaching," she said casually. She didn't miss the immediate flash of understanding that crossed his face.

"I would prefer you remain where you are, Nymphadora, though I do appreciate your attempt to help," the Headmaster replied quickly.

In response, Tonks simply shoved the crinkled bit of red parchment into his chest. As his eyes skimmed over it, they widened slightly.

"How did this happen?" he eventually asked.

"Umbridge," Tonks spat the name, "started her own personal war against me when I refused to help them incriminate Harry." At Dumbledore's curious expression, she went on to explain the entire scenario, starting with their original argument and ending with her suspension.

The Professor looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, I certainly cannot fault you for doing what is right, but I still feel your talents can be best utilized elsewhere," he said eventually.

"And the Defense post?" she asked irritably. "Would you rather deal with one of Fudge's toadies for a year, or me? As an auror, I'm fully qualified to teach others how to defend themselves, and you'd get another voice in the school."

The fact that he had to put a lot of serious thought into this was more than a little offensive to the metamorph...she had assumed that a choice between her and Umbridge would've been a simple one.

"You are aware of the so called curse on the position?" he asked.

"Of course I am. Anyone who's been to Hogwarts in the past two decades has heard of it."

"And you're not worried about the risk?" he responded hopefully.

She frowned at him. "Albus, I catch Dark Wizards for a living. Do you really think that risk is something I worry about?"

He still seemed hesitant.

"Why are you fighting this so hard?" she asked exasperatedly. "I can do the job a whole lot better than that woman ever could, I'm..." she paused and looked around to make sure they weren't being overheard "...I'm a member of the Order, so you know you can trust me, and I'm more than willing to do the job."

The old man sighed. "Yes...you're correct, of course. You would make a much better candidate."

He suddenly straightened up, all traces of his previous reticence gone, and swiftly made his way down the hall. "Come, Nymphadora!" he called over his shoulder. "We must get the paperwork filled out before Cornelius makes his announcement or we'll be too late!"

The new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor shuffled after him, blissfully unaware of what she was in for.

Tonks felt like she was caught up in a whirlwind...the moment they stepped out of the floo and into the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore sat a stack of papers in front of her. After explaining them all - everything from the general employment contract to the standard disclaimer that alleviated the school of any responsibility in magic related accidents - he had her sign them. As soon as she signed one and sat it aside, he picked it up and began filling out the parts the Headmaster was supposed to cover.

Thirty minutes and one cramped hand later, the duo tumbled back out into the atrium and made their way towards the Minister's office.

Tonks had never been to this part of the Ministry before and found herself rather impressed by the security. It made sense, she supposed, that a paranoid Minister would spend the most money on security right outside his office when important departments like the Department of Mysteries were only guarded by a single security guard whose sole purpose was checking wands.

Up one lift, through a wand check, up another lift, through a light pat-down to ensure there were no items hidden on their person (Tonks had to restrain herself from slapping the bloke responsible for that, he got a little grab-happy when he was checking her back pockets). Then through several different charm and dark detectors, and finally, they were walking down a long hallway with just one door, just as they reached it, it opened to reveal the Minister himself, with a smiling Umbridge just behind.

"Ah, Cornelius, just he man I wanted to see!" Dumbledore said with what Tonks was sure was affected pleasure.

The Minister's annoyed look was, on the other hand, obviously genuine. "What is it Dumbledore? I have an announcement to make; it doesn't do to keep the press waiting."

"Exactly the subject I wished to discuss," Dumbledore countered smoothly. "You see, we won't have to trouble Madame Umbridge for her services after all! I have found an able and willing professor to fill the role."

"Need I remind you, Dumbledore, that the Wizengamot just ratified Educational Decree Number Twenty-Three, which states -"

"- that you may appoint a professor if I am unable to find a suitable one, yes. However, I _have_ found someone suitable," the Headmaster interrupted calmly.

"And who might that be?" Umbridge asked, inserting herself rudely into the conversation.

"Nymphadora Tonks," Dumbledore replied, nodding in her direction.

Fudge, twirling his green bowler hat in his hand, appraised her with a suspicious eye. "Not possible, she is an auror and has her own duties to attend to, we can't spare her."

Dumbledore produced her suspension notice from his cloak and handed it to the Minister. "As you can see, Cornelius, Madame Umbridge has made it quite plain that _Professor_ Tonks won't have any responsibilities here for some time."

Fudge read it, his face turning steadily redder, and looked up at Tonks. "I warn you, Auror Tonks, if you do this, don't bother coming back!"

An icy cold fist squeezed her heart. Could she give up her dream, just walk away?

Umbridge noticed her hesitation and smiled, her jowls stretching disgustingly. She found herself thinking of that smile directed at Harry or the other kids...of letting Umbridge win.

Yes...yes she could.

She smiled an evil smile, enjoying the way Umbridge's own smile faded.

"Okay!" she replied in a chipper voice.

The Minister and his Undersecretary seemed flabbergasted. Once he recovered from his shock, Fudge glared at the Headmaster. "This isn't over, Dumbledore," he blustered.

With that grim proclamation, he brushed his way by and stormed down the hall with Umbridge following him like an obedient dog.

**

* * *

**

A/N: The end of Chapter 4!

**Before I start with the real A/N, I just wanted to address a...um...we'll call it a 'concern' that some of you have raised. Namely, how I handled Harry's argument with Ron and Hermione. I did it the way I did it for a reason, but to understand it, I think I need to explain how I feel about the actual canon situation that spawned it.**

**I think, at that point in the story, both sides were wrong, though they both had good points. Things were kept from Harry that he needed to know, but at the same time Harry wanted to know sensitive pieces of information as well, and, as far as the Order (read: Dumbledore) knew, his mind was like an open book to Voldemort. In a wartime situation, information is incredibly valuable, even though some of it seems inane.**

**The way it should have been handled, ideally, would've been to have Remus sit down with Harry and explain things to him. "Look, we think, because of your connection through your scar, that Voldemort could glean information from you without your knowledge, so there are some things we can't tell you. We CAN tell you that Voldemort is keeping a low profile, and there is a prophecy about you, and Voldemort wants to know it, badly, so he'll try to lure you to the Department of Mysteries. Don't go there, NO MATTER WHAT."**

**That could've fixed a lot of things, but no one ever did that.**

**So, the argument turned out the way it did in my story for a number of reasons: **

**1) Like I said, I think both sides had the wrong of it, even if they both had some good points. **

**2) I'm also tired of reading fic after fic where Ron and Hermione are demonized for doing what a trusted authority figure asked them to do (As Tonks pointed out, it was all Dumbledore's idea, in the end). That's not to say they should kill for the man because he asked them to, but this probably seemed like a reasonable request, so they followed it, even if they didn't always agree with it. **

**3) Finally, logistically speaking, Hermione had an extra evening to plan out her arguments (whether they were right or wrong) after she'd seen Harry's original reaction to Ron and herself; Harry didn't. So, naturally, he lost the argument with her. That doesn't mean that he was wrong and she was right, nor does it mean that he was right and she was wrong, it simply means she was able to brow beat him and leave just a tiny hint of doubt. So, the story being from Harry's point of view at that particular junction, portrayed a Harry that had that small bit of doubt buried underneath his bitterness. Just that little bit of "maybe she's right?"**

**In the end, I highly doubt I will ever write a scene where Harry bows down to them and begs their forgiveness, so no need to worry about that.**

**Now that we have that novel of a rebuttal out of the way, the REAL A/N:**

**Whew...this chapter was a pain to write. I came into this particular one knowing the general idea of what I wanted to happen, but I had none of the specifics figured out yet. In the end, I'm still not sure I like all of it, but I'm as satisfied as I'm going to get.**

**I'm surprised I finished as quickly as I did, to be honest. My brother recently bought the first two seasons of Heroes on DVD and leant them to me...three days later, I finally finished the last disk :) It's a good show, despite the occasional lapse in logic.**

**A special thanks to Vellouette for his (or her) review about Sirius/Harry interaction. In all of my outlining and so forth, I had completely forgotten to include anything between them; thanks for saving my butt!**

**Finally, for those of you who are interested, I've started posting chapter progress at the top of my profile. So, if you ever find yourself wondering how close I am to being done with a chapter of one of my stories, just check the profile.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**As always, read, review, tell me what you think!**

**Cid**

**Next Chapter: The end of summer and the beginning of the school year.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter or any associated characters/names of any kind. The only thing here that belongs to me is the plot (and my few original characters)...which may or may not be a good thing.**

**A/N: Apologies for the slightly delayed chapter. I just started school, which puts a serious cramp in my writing style. Now...ON WITH THE SHOW!  
**

**

* * *

Shifters**

**Chapter 5 - What Dreams May Come**

_"At first, dreams seem impossible, then improbable, and eventually inevitable."_

- Christopher Reeve - the _real_ Superman.

_**

* * *

Grimmauld Place, the Evening of August 31st.**_

Mrs. Weasley had done a more than decent job of making the almost unnaturally cold old house look warm and festive, Harry was happy to see. When Tonks had suggested "a bit of a shindig to end the summer right," Mrs. Weasley had latched onto the idea like a starving man to a vending machine. He suspected it was one of her own ways of feeling useful - lightening things up as much as she could.

The streamers, banners, and multitude of foods were definitely a step in the right direction.

Various members of the Order milled about, along with most of the Weasley kids, Hermione, and himself. Well, technically he wasn't really milling about, he was completely stationary against the wall, rubbing his eyes and trying to stay awake.

"Still having trouble with dreams?" a familiar voice asked him. He turned to see Tonks, for once without robes...just a relatively snug black t-shirt with red lettering across the chest that read 'I Killed J.R.' and a loose pair of dark blue jeans.

"Hi, Tonks," he said with a smile.

"Wotcher," she smiled. "So...was it the graveyard again?"

He shook his head. "No, it was the hallway this time." He had been having a series of dreams, sometimes nightmarish in nature. One, obviously, was watching Cedric die in the graveyard again and again. Another was a long hallway that led to a locked door he had never seen before...that one usually ended in a tingling scar. The last frequent dream he had was a confusing array of images and snippets of events, some of which had already happened, and some of which were totally alien to him.

Tonks frowned at him, idly running a hand through her violet spikes of hair. "You have more weird dreams than anyone I've ever met, Harry."

"Sorry," he said in an easy manner, not really apologetic at all.

"Nah, don't worry about it," she replied with a playful smile, "makes you interesting."

"Like I'd need dreams to do that," he snorted.

"True enough," she agreed. "Of course, you don't have _secrets_ to make you _really_ interesting."

Harry felt a brief flash of irritation. "Not that again Tonks. You've been lording your little secret over me for days now."

"Aw, c'mon, you aren't even going to guess this time?"

"Are you going to tell me if I get it right?"

"Nope."

"Then no, I'm not going to guess," he said with a smile.

"But it's so much fun watching you guess wrong!" she pouted.

Harry huffed in mock irritation.

"You're so much fun to pick on, ickle Harrikins," she giggled, mussing his hair. He knew she only did that because he hated it. He shot her a glare, but she just kept smiling at him. Eventually, his gaze softened somewhat and he smiled back.

"So, are you still in a snit about the prefects?" she asked casually, flicking her eyes at Ron and Hermione, who were grabbing themselves some food.

Harry crossed his arms and refused to look at her.

"Guess so," she sighed.

"I'm at least trying to be friendly with them, if it makes you feel any better."

"It's a start," she replied with a shrug. "Honestly, with all of this going on, I'm surprised you took not being a prefect as well as you did."

Harry shrugged noncommittally. "I didn't, at first, but then Sirius pointed out that I wouldn't have time for our...special project, if I was busy with prefect duties, and that helped me get over it."

"Like dangling a carrot," she chuckled.

Harry glared at her. "Not that I blame you," she amended, "being able to change into an animal at will is just...well...neat!"

"I'm sure Sirius wouldn't mind teaching you, if you asked. He really doesn't like being alone in this house all the time. He'll do anything to keep his mind off of it."

Tonks shook her head and smiled. "Nah, I really can't. Something about my gift interferes with the animagus transformation. Metamorphmagi can't be animagi."

"Oh...sorry," he said sheepishly.

She shook her head again. "Don't be. I wouldn't trade, actually. You can have so much fun with people when you can look like anyone you want." She chuckled evilly and Harry got the distinct impression she was referring to something he didn't want to know about.

Tonks looked up over his shoulder and smiled. "Wotcher, you two."

"Hi," said Hermione brightly. Ron mumbled something as he made his way up to Harry's side, but it was muffled into incomprehensibility by the mouthful of sandwich he was chewing on. Hermione shot the red head a disgusted look.

"You lot ready for school, then?" Tonks asked, ignoring the byplay.

"Oh yes, I've already worked up a study schedule for our O.W.L.'s," Hermione chirped happily.

Harry sighed and exchanged a look with Ron.

Ron swallowed his mouth full of food with a heavy gulping sound. "Hermione...you do realize that O.W.L.'s aren't until next June, right?" he said.

"Of course I do. It never hurts to be prepared, Ron," she retorted. "Right Harry?" she asked, shooting him an imperious look.

"Er..." he looked furtively back and forth between them. He was well aware that the violent shaking of Tonks' shoulders was silent laughter, aimed directly at his situation. "I'm pretty sure we would make out okay if we waited until after the Christmas hols, at least."

"But these tests have a _huge_ impact on our futures!" Hermione reasoned rather assertively.

"She's right, you two," Tonks interjected with a smirk. "Most careers you look into will rely heavily on your O.W.L and N.E.W.T. scores."

"Exactly! See, Tonks agrees with me."

Harry shot the metamorph a dirty look. He was sure that she'd only said that to stir the pot. She'd confessed to him a few days ago that she found their minor spats entertaining; it was just the big ones she wanted to stop.

"But Hermione, I won't remember anything I study today ten months from now!" Ron argued.

Hermione looked at him peculiarly for a moment. "Who won the Quidditch World Cup in 1954?" she asked in a complete nonsequitor.

"The Russian National team, 450 to 320," Ron answered automatically.

"How did you know that?" the bushy haired witch asked calmly.

"Read it in a book about quidditch that Charlie leant me a few years ago, it had some great plays in it that nobody uses anymore."

Hermione smiled at him triumphantly. "You see...if you can remember that, I'm sure you can remember anything you study today ten months from now."

Ron looked absolutely horrified. Tonks snickered at him, and Harry, if he wasn't so worried about what this would mean for his own study habits, would've laughed as well.

"But quidditch is actually interesting!" Ron fired back. "I don't care about boring stuff like potions and transfiguration...I'll never remember it!"

"They are not boring!" Hermione answered indignantly. "They -"

"Harry, Hermione, Ron!" Mrs. Weasley's voice cut in from across the room. "Have you three packed yet?"

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione answered quickly. Ron and Harry exchanged another look.

"Me and Harry were just going to wait until morning, Mum," Ron explained.

Mrs. Weasley made her way across the room and stopped in front of them, her hands on her hips. "Oh no you won't! We're almost late every year because you all wait until the last minute. I want the both of you to go pack immediately; you can come back down once you're done."

"Yes, mum."

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," they said simultaneously. Nodding authoritatively, she left them to it.

_**

* * *

Grimmauld Place, The Morning of Sept. 1st.**_

The Weasley's were in a panic, as they usually were on the first of September. The children were pounding up and down the stairs and running from room to room searching for lost books, quills, and clothes. Mrs. Weasley was scurrying about with breakfast, alternately scolding them for not getting ready the night before and hugging them because she would miss them so much.

Tonks could only watch it all in a mixture of stunned amusement and fear for their sanity.

She was looking forward to this evening with a nervous excitement she hadn't felt since her first day of auror training. The look on Harry's face, once he found out, would be absolutely priceless.

He didn't like to admit it, but she had seen him moping about the past few days and she knew exactly why: He was going to miss Sirius, Remus, and, she hoped, her.

An explosion rocked the house and Tonks whirled, wand at the ready. Fred and George, cackling madly, sprinted down the stairs, followed by an irate, red-faced Ron.

"FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY!" bellowed Molly Weasley's voice from somewhere upstairs. "GET BACK HERE THIS INSTANT!"

"Sorry mum!" one of them shouted as he barreled around the sofa in the den. "We're too busy packing, just like you told us to!"

"I DON'T CARE! YOU COME FIX THIS...WHATEVER IT IS!"

"Mum, we're going to be late!" shouted Ginny's slightly panicked voice from somewhere else in the upper levels.

"OH DEAR...EVERYONE DOWNSTAIRS, NOW!"

"I knew there was a reason that she's our favorite sibling," said the other twin, standing up from his hiding place behind the grandfather clock, just in time for Ron to breeze by and whack the back of his head. "Ow..."

Five minutes later, Tonks found herself bemusedly following a troupe of Weasleys, plus Order guards, and Harry and Hermione down the sidewalk. Seeing Harry falling a little behind, she sped up until she was even with him.

"So, what's old Hoggy-Warty-Hogwarts like now-a-days?"

"I dunno, I'd imagine a lot like it was when you were there," he replied.

"Snape's still a bully then?" she asked. Harry chuckled and nodded.

Things got quiet for a bit before Harry spoke again. "Tell me about your school days?" he asked.

"Well...it all started when the Sorting Hat told me I was far to loyal to be anything but a Hufflepuff..."

She launched into a retelling of her years at school - heavily edited...there were just some things he didn't need to know. Her stories lasted them all the way to King's Cross

The large group had a bit of a hard time making it through the crowded train station; dragging trunks, caged pets, and other such nuisances through an average sized area filled with a much larger than average number of people was no mean feat, especially with Sirius running around nipping at heels and barking at pretty girls.

In a flurry of dropped trunks, barked shins, and curse words, they hustled through the barrier and formed a little island of red hair amidst the sea of students on the platform.

Molly quickly made her way down the line, hugging each of the children in turn and alternately admonishing them to be good and encouraging them to have fun (which Tonks thought was kind of confusing, since, to her, having fun implied being bad). Harry had stepped off to one side and was saying his goodbyes to Sirius. Tonks slowly sidled up to them.

"I know it'll be hard Harry, but try to keep your chin up, yeah?" she interrupted.

Harry looked at her quizzically. "Huh?" Sirius huffed in a wheezy doggy chuckle.

"Such a brave boy," she sighed, shaking her head at him. "Tonks-withdrawal is never an easy malady to endure, but I'm sure you'll persevere!"

Harry grinned, shaking his head at her. "I think I'll be better off without you," he said.

Tonks crinkled her nose impishly and slapped his shoulder. "I know you'll miss me."

His grin faded and suddenly he turned serious, looking anywhere but at her. "Yes...yes I will." He paused and worked up the courage to look her in the eye. "Thanks."

Tonks could only nod in return, or she might get a bit choked up herself. She knew he wasn't just thanking her for the slap on the shoulder. It had been a good end of the summer, for both of them.

"Harry," Molly's voice rose over the crowd, "hurry, or you'll miss the train!"

Acting on impulse, Tonks did something she was sure would be awkward for him. She stepped forward and gave him a quick hug, feeling him tense in her arms before she released him. Stepping back, she laughed inwardly at the confused expression on his face.

"See you later," he managed to say before he hastily made his escape.

She had never been overly emotional. She rarely cried or got all touchy-feely, but ever since she'd first seen the minute signs of neglect and abuse on his too-thin frame, she'd wanted to wrap him up in her arms and protect him from all the negative things in his life.

_You'll see me a lot sooner than you think, Harry,_ she mused inwardly, eagerly anticipating the smile on his face when he saw her later that evening.

Sirius simply looked on with his long tongue lolling out in a wonky grin.

_**

* * *

The Hogwarts Express, Later That Afternoon.**_

Harry wandered onto the train in a daze, barely even acknowledging Ron and Hermione when they explained that they would have to perform their prefect duties before they could sit. He nodded and stumbled away, dragging his trunk along without a word.

He passed doors without notice, his mind drifting back to warm arms squeezing him affectionately for just a brief moment. Hugs were something he simply wasn't used to. It took years before he managed to adjust to Hermione hugging him, and Mrs. Weasley - well, it didn't matter if he was adjusted to her hugs or not, she was going to give them. So, it was a bit of a shock when someone he'd barely known a month did it.

Not that it wasn't pleasant; just hard to accept.

"Harry, you okay?" a quiet voice asked behind him.

"Hmm?" Looking over his shoulder, he found Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley crowded together behind him. "Oh, yes, I'm fine."

A quiet moment passed before Ginny huffed. "He only asks because you're going so slow that you're blocking the way. Now hurry up and find us some seats!" she said with a teasing lilt.

Grinning, Harry nodded, turned, and made to move on up the train.

"What about in there?" Neville asked, pointing at the compartment Harry had just passed. "Oh...wait, there's someone in there."

Ginny peered around his shoulder. "Oh, don't be silly Neville, it's just Loony."

"Loony?" Harry said dubiously, not at all sure he was agreeable to sharing a compartment with a crazy person.

"Luna Lovegood...she's a little strange, but she's nice." Ginny answered briskly. She shoved passed Neville and opened the door, greeting the rather absent looking young Ravenclaw warmly.

Luna immediately roped Ginny into a conversation about 'billy wrigglers', whatever those were. Ginny's lips were constantly twitching while she tried to hide her smile. Neville shot Luna a rather frightened look and sat as far away from her as possible. Harry took the seat directly across from her. The moment he got settled, his lack of sleep caught up to him...

_He felt a pair of arms wrap around him tightly..._

_Harry tumbled in darkness for a while. Direction was meaningless; there was no up or down, no left or right, just him and the black._

_Suddenly, everything shifted. All around him, light and dark were warring with one another, both seeking dominance. A baby was crying somewhere..._

_He was falling end over end into the black again. Ribbons of blue surrounded him, painting the darkness with light._

_Tonks was angry...angrier than he'd ever seen her. She raged, ranting and raving at some invisible person, waving her wand in their general direction. He didn't like seeing her like that..._

_The black no longer seemed so empty now. It was like he had a direction now, like he was falling towards something._

_A jack-o-lantern was leering at him wickedly, he could smell the scent of blood strongly and the sounds of someone retching assailed his ears..._

_There was an up and down now, and he was no longer falling; instead, he was simply hovering there._

_Bushy hair and big brown eyes looked at him pleadingly..._

_He felt a tug all over his body, forces trying to pull him in every direction at once._

_Tonks was in pain, her body arched, her fingers curled, and her pretty face twisted into a mask of agony..._

_Yes, he had a direction now, and he was moving towards his destination, just a little longer and he would be there!_

Harry was startled awake when someone plopped down in the seat beside him.

"Sorry, mate," Ron said sheepishly.

"S'nothin'," Harry mumbled in reply, "bad dream anyway." Looking around the compartment to get his bearings, Harry was surprised to find Luna and Hermione glaring hot, glowing daggers at each other. Ginny and Neville looked back and forth between them uncomfortably.

He casually leaned over towards Ron. "What's going on with them?" he whispered.

Ron followed Harry's eyes and chuckled. "I dunno if you've noticed or not, but Luna is kind of strange -" Harry snorted, he had indeed noticed that, as anyone with eyes and ears would, "- Hermione would probably call her 'illogical'. And...well, you know how Hermione is."

Harry nodded sagely. They were exact opposites, and Hermione was hostile at best with those who looked at the world from outside the box instead of in. Hence the glares of doom.

"Course, it doesn't help that Hermione accidentally called her dad crazy."

"Ouch," Harry noted. Ron nodded his agreement.

They rode in relative silence for a while before Ron started grilling him about quidditch. Hermione and Luna eventually started speaking again, though not to each other. Instead, a bewildered Ginny found herself trying to hold two conversations (one of them rather odd) at the same time. He distinctly heard Luna ask the youngest Weasley how she dealt with nibblers in her bra, which resulted in an entertaining blush. Hermione, on the other hand, was encouraging her to start a study schedule for the O.W.L.'s...at the start of her fourth year...

_Thank God I'm not Ginny._

Not long after the sky started darkening into the evening hours, their compartment door slid open. Harry found himself completely unsurprised to see Draco Malfoy, flanked - as ever - by Crabbe and Goyle, leering around the compartment at them all.

Finally, his eyes rested on Harry's and he smiled one of the slimy smiles that only he could do. "Potter," he said.

"Malfoy."

"Things are going to be different this year," Malfoy proclaimed haughtily, tapping the silver "P" pinned to his chest. "I'm a prefect!"

"Wonder how much daddy had to pay for that?" someone muttered too low for Harry to identify them. Apparently, Malfoy had the same problem, as he looked furious but didn't retort.

"I suppose Dumbledore was afraid to give you a badge. Not many people would want a psychopathic killer in a position of power," the arrogant blond continued smugly.

Harry gritted his teeth, but didn't respond; hard to do so when he didn't understand Dumbledore's decision himself.

"Well that's ironic," Ginny chirped. "Your father seems to be one of those people."

"Actually, that's more of a coincidence than an irony," Hermione corrected. "Now, if his father_ was_ a psychopathic killer, that opens the door to all kinds of ironies..." she trailed off dramatically. Both girls giggled.

"Don't talk about my father that way!" Malfoy growled, yanking his wand out. Harry, having expected this, already had his trained on the ponce; he was happy to notice both Ron and Neville's wands doing the same out of the corner of his eye.

"Excuse me!" a new voice cut in from behind Crabbe and Goyle, who jumped apart as if stung. Once their bulk was out of the way, a short, almost pixie-like woman with startlingly red hair and striking blue eyes was revealed, glaring at Draco. "Why is your wand out, Mr. Malfoy?"

_The new defense professor?_ Harry wondered.

The Slytherin looked panicked for a moment before he pasted what he must have thought was a charming smile on his face. "Potter here was attempting to bully me," he said. "I was only defending myself."

The new professor - if Harry was right - looked back and forth between Malfoy's wand and his own. "So...you stopped and opened the door of Mr. Potter's compartment so that he could bully you?" she asked skeptically.

"Er...no...that is...I..."

"See that your wand stays in your pocket, and your nose stays out of Mr. Potter's business, Mr. Malfoy. I've seen your type before, and I don't particularly like arrogant sods." Harry may have imagined it, but he thought he heard a threatening edge in her voice.

Malfoy shot the professor a glare and shoved his wand in his pocket. "Just you wait Potter, everything has changed this year," he hissed before he whirled away. "C'mon," he muttered to Crabbe and Goyle, stalking off down the hall. They followed with somewhat confused looks on their faces. Harry could've sworn he heard Malfoy mumble the words "...my father..." as he went.

He could see the signs of the others doing their best not to laugh in front of the new teacher. He himself was doing his best to keep a straight face. The short woman's eyes scanned the compartment once, a stern look on her face, before she shut the compartment door. Surprisingly, she shot a wink at Harry before she walked off after the Slytherins.

"Who was that?" asked Ron, looking automatically to Hermione for the answer.

"The new defense professor, I'd guess," she replied.

"I'm already looking forward to her classes," Harry said, giving in to his urge to smile at Malfoy's expense. "Any professor who is willing to put that git in his place has to be worth learning from."

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny made noises of agreement, Luna simply pulled out a magazine, turned it upside down, and shoved her head in it, and Neville tremulously nodded.

_**

* * *

Hogwarts, the Welcoming Feast.**_

Harry took his seat with a loud _thunk!_ He was still a bit unnerved by the skeletal horses that, apparently, no one else could see - well...except for Luna, not that that was much comfort.

Ron and Hermione took up their customary seats beside him, currently embroiled in an argument about...something...Harry wasn't really sure - he'd just seen invisible dead horses for Pete's sake! He had to do something to take his mind off of them. Otherwise he'd drive himself insane.

Trying to distract himself by taking an interest in the Great Hall, he scanned the room around him. Over at the Ravenclaw table, a dark head of hair caught his attention and he found Cho smiling at him prettily. His stomach clenched and he felt his face heat up.

She waved at him and it was all he could do to return it without falling out of his chair.

Feeling strangely at odds with himself, he reluctantly moved on before he could really embarrass himself.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were huddled together at the Slytherin table, shooting furtive glances at both Harry and the new professor, and muttering amongst themselves. Harry smirked inwardly, his respect for said professor going up another notch. Usually, Draco would've already disconnected himself from reality again and entered 'Malfoy World', where everyone feared him and did everything he told them to. She must have really shaken him up somehow.

Moving on, his gaze found its way to the staff table. Dumbledore was smiling benignly at the assembling students. Hagrid - he was sorry to note - wasn't there. He felt a brief stab of worry over that, but reassured himself that surely, if his large friend was seriously injured, someone would've told him.

And then, he found himself staring into the black, hateful eyes of Professor Snape...he moved on quickly, for obvious reasons.

That left only one more person of any interest to Harry: the new professor. She was shifting nervously in her seat, scanning the room with dark eyes that seemed somehow..._familiar_. Like they were part of a picture he'd seen a long time ago, but he couldn't fully remember it.

"Harry," Hermione hissed, drawing his attention. "If you stare any harder, you'll bore a hole right through her!"

"Oh...er...sorry. What were you saying?" he said quickly, hoping he wasn't blushing too badly. Hermione just shook her head and continued talking. Harry couldn't help but notice the smirk that Ron shot his way.

Once the hall was almost full enough to burst, Professor McGonagall led the first years in through the side door and sat the Sorting Hat on its stool. The hat, as far as Harry could tell, gave the hall a casual once over before it opened wide and serenaded them.

_Well, I am a hat_

_As you might have seen_

_A hat with a task _

_On which I'm not keen_

_In dark times like these_

_It is my job to sort you out_

_But I ask you to listen please_

_To what my song is all about_

_Things are always best_

_When taken in equal measure_

_Don't focus on one, lest_

_You miss the greatest treasure_

_Heed my warnings please_

_Even you who are wise_

_For even the greatest who Sees_

_Might miss a variable that defies_

_Meddle in fate's affairs_

_And Providence strikes back_

_Liars, here beware_

_Of the Juggernaut's wrath_

_And players in destiny's great game_

_Remember that free will must be allowed_

_Lest things always be the same_

_Even a goddess can't remain safe behind fate's shroud_

_The wolves are howling_

_For that which was foreseen_

_And the beasts are prowling;_

_Fighting against the way it has been_

_Before it all ends_

_Before it is truly done_

_You MUST make amends_

_Or this song will be my last one_

_Finally, before things go on, as is their wont_

_Know this ever present fact_

_Fight against the flow all you want_

_But it is the Queen who brings you back_

_Now I've said my piece_

_So come and put me on_

_I'll sort by heart, mind, and belief_

_And put you where you belong_

The Sorting Hat's song ended as abruptly as it began, leaving a silent hall in its wake. Harry glanced at Hermione, whose lips were moving - repeating the words to commit them to memory, he assumed. On his other side, Ron's brows were contracted in thought.

"When did the hat start sounding like Trelawney?" he asked. Harry snorted and shrugged.

"I wonder if it has ever done something similar?" Hermione mused.

"Oh, it's given warnings before," Nearly-Headless Nick interjected, startling them as he floated up from behind. "But I've never seen it be so cryptic…and direct."

The three shared a significant look and glanced at a seemingly serene Dumbledore. Apparently he hadn't found anything odd about it. Though Harry thought he might look a bit more slumped than usual.

Several moments passed in which the hall buzzed with conversation. Finally, Dumbledore stood and raised his hands for quiet.

"Yes, an interesting song as always. Now, let us get on with the Sorting." He turned and nodded to Professor McGonagall who, with a thin lipped expression, began to read off names.

Harry clapped where appropriate throughout the ceremony, not really paying attention. His mind was instead focused on the ominous, and almost nonsensical, message the Sorting Hat had delivered. He didn't know much about the hat. What magicks was it gifted with? Could it see things in a way no one else here could?

He had a bad feeling about this.

"Xander, Harrold!" shouted McGonagall's voice. It wasn't until young Harrold sauntered off to the Hufflepuffs and the Deputy Headmistress swept the hat and stool away that Harry realized he'd zoned out through the majority of the Sorting.

Professor Dumbledore stood, a pleased smile on his face and raised his hands for silence once more.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, first years; and welcome back returning students! We have just a few start-of-term announcements to get out of the way before we can tuck in to our wonderful feast."

The Headmaster swept a hand towards the end of the table, where Hagrid usually sat, indicating a rather plain woman. "Professor Grubbly-Plank will be teaching Care of Magical Creatures for us while Professor Hagrid completes his sabbatical." The woman stood and nodded, a benign smile on her face. Polite applause followed.

Dumbledore turned and swept his other arm out, this time bringing their attention to the woman from the train. "And, taking Defense Against the Dark Arts for us this year will be Professor Nymph—" a rather loud clearing of said professor's throat interrupted the old man mid-word "—that is, Professor Tonks!" he corrected smoothly.

Harry felt his heart lift, his mind leaving behind the puzzle the Sorting Hat had laid out for him for a moment. He sat stunned, briefly, before he remembered to join in the applause, leading Ron, Hermione, and Ginny in a round that was far more enthusiastic than anyone else. He felt like his smile might split his face in two.

Tonks stood, giving a perfunctory wave to the rest of the hall, but the grin on her face was directed solely at him and his friends.

"Gotcha," she mouthed at him. His only response was a pair of rolled eyes and a small smile.

_**

* * *

The Next Morning.**_

_Tonks was in a lot of pain, of that much she was sure. Her fingers were clenched so tight that she was certain they would pop off at any minute now._

_Suddenly it was all gone; it appeared to up and run away without her, leaving a new scene in its wake._

_Warm light was shining through a large sunlight overhead. The smell of fresh polish still hung in the air, sort of like a 'new house smell' . The place was far bigger than she had expected...and she felt like a little girl when the urge to go jump on her new bed hit her._

_"I like it," said an unfamiliar voice, high pitched and lightly accented._

_"Yeah...it feels like home," said a voice she knew all too well..._

_The scene fled again, leaving the face of Delores Umbridge, of all people. She was smiling wickedly at her while she scribbled furiously on the pad she cradled in her arm. Tonks found herself feeling very nervous, inexplicably so._

_Why would that woman bother her like this?_

_Once again, things shifted, and Tonks felt her heart clench. She saw Harry's face now, contorted in rage and anger, his hair going wild with a mind of its own._

_A werewolf howled..._

She jerked awake, drinking in deep gasps of air. Her eyes wandered wildly for a moment while the rest of her brain caught up.

_Hogwarts...bed...safe..._

Her breathing leveled out and her eyes focused - along with her brain.

"Damn Harry," she muttered as she rolled unceremoniously out of bed, "infecting me with his weird dreams."

She looked around her dorm with a disgusted eye. For unknown reasons, she had always assumed that the Professor's quarters were extravagant, well furnished, and utterly decadent.

Instead, they were sparsely decorated with a few portraits, a rug (a neutral grayish color), and a comfortable bed. The rooms weren't even all that big; she might as well have been back in her crappy little flat. Well...except for the fact that she didn't have to worry about spilling coffee on herself, or making her own meals, or cleaning. Hogwarts house-elves were wonderful, she decided.

Dressing in her usual attire (slightly baggy jeans, and a t-shirt - yellow today) topped by a robe that was auror red, though beyond the color it only slightly resembled her old uniform. She hoped even the small resemblance would add to her presence...maybe. Good first impressions and all that.

Breakfast passed quietly. She was unhappy to note that she had awoken before most of the other staff, which was still unnaturally early for her. After the meal, she nipped back to her quarters for her lesson plan and notes before she made her way, whistling happily, to her classroom.

By all accounts she should be nervous. She'd ended up having very little time to prepare herself before September first had snuck up on her. Most people would be scared that they were under-prepared, but she wasn't.

How hard could it be? Teaching Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had been easy enough. She even had Harry, Ron, and Hermione in her first class. What could go wrong?

She shifted some things around while the sounds of the class slowly filing in drifted through her office door. A quick look at the time told her that class was about to start. Putting a warm smile on her face, she strolled into the classroom…

And froze.

A multitude of eyes were staring at her now.

_What if I forget my notes? _

_What if I trip and fall?_

_I hope they can't see my knickers through that rip just below my hip!_

_They're going to hate me._

_Why did I agree to do this?_

There had to be at least thirty of the little buggers. This was a whole hell of a lot different than teaching four kids that you were already familiar with.

"Erm...hi," she said, wincing at how squeaky her voice sounded.

She got a few 'good mornings' and 'hullos' in response, and nodded thankfully. Sucking in a deep breath, she continued: "Right...well, this is fifth year Defense Against the Dark Arts - but you knew that, of course - and we'll...um...be covering defensive curses, jinxes, and hexes until Christmas. After that, it's O.W.L prep."

Noticing that no one had laughed at her yet, she straightened a little more and tried to speak with her usual gusto.

"I thought a brief demonstration might give you a better idea of the things you will learn this year. So...I um...I guess I'll get that out of the way now, and then I'll answer any questions you all may have before we move on, okay?" She got a few nods in response.

She turned to Harry, almost automatically. He was smiling encouragingly at her. "Mr. Potter, would you care to assist me?"

"Yes, professor," he answered, smirking slightly as the word 'professor' passed his lips.

_Silly ponce, I'll give him something to smile about. _

Waving her wand casually, she shifted her desk to the side of the class. "Wand out, please." She turned to face him, doing her best to block out the weighty feeling of all the eyes on her. Instead she focused on the familiar feelings that Harry engendered. "On three."

Harry nodded and settled into his usual stance. Tonks followed suit. "Three…two…one…go!"

"_Expelliarmus!"_

Tonks ducked to the right and grimaced. She would have to pull him aside and talk to him about that; he always opened with that spell. She waved her wand at the quill on her desk, transfiguring it into a blunt piece of wood before she launched it at him.

Ducking, he aimed and fired off a leg-locker curse, which she neatly side-stepped.

They circled each other for a moment, wands at the ready and eyes locked.

As Harry stepped around close to the other students, she heard one of them whisper something. A few others tittered and Harry's face grew hard. Filing that bit away for the moment, she launched another attack by summoning a book from the desk behind him.

Harry, unaware of the projectile flying at his back, looked at her stupidly until the book smacked him in between the shoulders and he whirled, looking for another assailant.

"Enough!" Tonks called. Harry lowered his wand and watched her cautiously. "Thank you Mr. Potter. You may be seated." A light round of applause followed the end of their duel.

She swept a hard gaze around the classroom, feeling emboldened after her display. "That is some of what we will be learning this year. I'm not big on theory, so don't expect anymore than what you'll need for your O.W.L.'s." She almost smiled when she heard a relived sigh pass through the room. "Come to class with your wands and be prepared for dueling."

Tonks was pleased to note that she seemed to have their rapt attention. "Despite your spotty teaching in the past, you have a decent enough grounding in dark creatures, we're moving into the 'defense portion' of your education."

She paused to give the room another once over. "Any questions?" A hand went up almost immediately. "Yes, Miss Abbot?"

"Is learning to duel really necessary?" she asked meekly, glancing at Harry as she spoke. Harry merely ground his teeth and stared resolutely at his table. The meaning of this exchange wasn't lost on Tonks. She noticed several others perk up around the room. Her face turned stony.

"Look," she began, forcing her voice to remain calm, "I'm not naive enough to think that you _all_ believe Mr. Potter and Professor Dumbledore when they say You-Know-Who is back, but I wish you would." Mutters floated through the room, some angry, some curious, some neutral. One girl - whose name she had yet to learn - even screamed. "Regardless, you will need to know the basics of dueling. You-Know-Who wasn't the first dark wizard, and he won't be the last. Better safe than sorry, I say."

When she finished, she turned back to Hannah with an inquisitive look. "Is that all?" The blonde Hufflepuff nodded, unable to look her in the eye.

"Any more questions?" Tonks asked. No one spoke up, so she moved to the front of the class, waving her wand negligently to pull her desk back into place, and turned to face them again.

"Books out now," a loud groan went up. "Now, now, none of that!" she chided with a smile. "It's only for a few minutes, then we get to the wand work!" She gave them time to pull out there books, and after much jostling and page turning, she began with her small lecture. "Since this is a defense based class, we will start out with your basic shield charm…"

_**

* * *

Meanwhile, Somewhere In London.**_

Nydia was the happiest she'd been in weeks. Not that she wasn't still skinny, underfed, and unrested, but she could feel it again! Never mind the fact that it seemed to be pulling her around in circles. It was north again, and it was calling to her. Asking her to come…no, _begging_ her to come, before it was too late.

She was sprinting across the fields now, her legs and heart pumping in time, her lungs working hard. It may take a while, but she was going to find it this time, she just knew it.

She hadn't seen hide nor hair of her pursuers recently either. Unsure of what that might mean, she could only do what she had been doing: wait and see. She smiled when she saw an approaching tree line; she had always loved forests, they felt like home.

_**

* * *

Hogwarts, the End of the First Defense Against the Dark Arts Class.**_

"Mr. Potter," Tonks' voice halted him in his steps. The other students continued to flow around him and out the door. "A word if you please?"

Harry waved Ron and Hermione on and turned back, threading his way between his classmates until he reached his seat. Tonks was looking at him with a concerned expression and he had a feeling he knew what was coming.

Finally, the last student left and the door shut with a muted bang. Immediately, Tonks' professional demeanor disappeared. "Blimey, but that was harder than I thought it'd be!" she exclaimed, slumping in relief. Harry chuckled briefly.

"I thought you were brilliant." She smiled widely at that.

"So, what is it you wanted to talk to me about, professor?" he asked calmly.

"Oh leave off that professor nonsense!" she retorted, shooting him a glare that was completely ruined by her smiling lips.

"But professor, it wouldn't be properly respectful!" he claimed in obviously false horror. He got a very weak tickling hex in response.

"Very funny," she remarked.

Once Harry's laughter died down, he pasted a serious look on his face. "So, what's this about?"

Tonks shifted a little nervously. "How are you?" she asked anxiously.

Harry sighed tiredly, looking down at his feet, well aware that she wasn't just asking after his health. "I had a bit of a row with Seamus last night. Apparently, his mum thinks I'm a nutter."

He felt a small, warm hand grip his shoulder and looked up into Tonks' worried face. "We knew something like this would happen…are you all right?"

"Not really," he said, after a few seconds of thought. "It isn't just Seamus, people have been whispering about me, looking at me like I might explode, or even outright laughing at me all morning."

Tonks' hand squeezed his shoulder a little harder. "Not to fret, Harry. They'll all see the truth eventually. In the meantime, if one of the little buggers gives you a problem, you send 'em to me. I'll hex…er…that is, I'll give them a detention." She shot him a wink.

He found himself feeling a little better. Knowing someone was on your side was always a good feeling.

Suddenly, her expression turned stern. "Now, we need to have a talk about your dueling technique, mister!" Harry groaned, though inwardly he was quite happy for this turn of the conversation…lessons with Tonks were always fun, and they didn't involve his emotional state in any way.

"I thought I did well enough," he muttered. Tonks snorted.

"Yeah, if you call getting whacked in the back of the head with a book 'well enough', I suppose you did."

Harry gave her a dirty look; he hadn't expected that particular move, which, he supposed, was his first mistake.

"And you keep opening up with the disarming charm. That's bad form Harry, makes you predictable. A predictable fighter is a dead one."

"Okay, okay, I'll start mixing up my openers. Happy?"

"Very, now, you'd best be getting on to your next class," she said, surprising him with a hug.

He struggled for the right words for a moment before he finally just said, "Thanks for the talk."

"Always, Harry, always," she said nonchalantly. "Now off with you, and don't forget to tell me how your _special_ studies go tonight." Tonks gave him one last wink and shooed him away.

A grinning Harry exited the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, patting the pocket that held his mirror. Tonight, he was going to learn how to find his form, and having that to look forward to would make double Potions bearable.

**

* * *

A/N: And that's chapter 5 down! **

**This chapter was a bit of a calm before the storm. Lots of foreshadowing and getting me to where I need to be. Next chapter, the first third or so of this story will culminate (or at least start to):).**

**I've dropped a bit of a BtVS reference in this chapter, for those of you who are interested in little easter eggs like that. It doesn't really have anything to do with the story, it just struck my fancy at the time.**

**And finally, my last bit of A/N awesomeness: Shifters is going to be a trilogy.**

**As always, read, review, and tell me what you think. See you next Chapter.**

**Cid  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any associated names/images/etc. I do not profit from this story in anyway.**

**

* * *

Shifters**

**Chapter 6 – All Hallows' Eve Part 1: I've got a bad feeling about this...**

"_There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls." _

_~ George Carlin_

_**

* * *

Grimmauld Place, the Evening of September 1**__**st, 1995**__**.**_

"I'm telling you Moony, Harry and my little cousin were making goo-goo eyes at each other!" Sirius exclaimed as he led the way up the stairs. The smile on his face carried a hint of pride.

"And I'm telling you that you're imagining things!" the werewolf countered. "He's fifteen…she's twenty-two…I just don't buy it."

"Ah, c'mon, you've seen how close they are."

"I have," Remus said with a nod that Sirius couldn't see, "Yet again, I don't buy it."

"Just because you're all dull and dreary doesn't mean everyone else is!" Sirius smirked when he heard his last remaining best friend huff irritably behind him. Picking at the ex-professor's stuffy persona always wound him up.

"I don't suppose it's occurred to you," Remus began as Sirius opened a door, stopped, and waved for the man to precede him, "that a man – well…boy in this case, and a woman can have a close relationship without it being in anyway romantic?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Sirius asked, absolutely horrified. Remus simply sighed.

"Just shut the door and lock it," he ordered.

"Yes sir, Captain Dull!" Sirius said, snapping a mock-salute he'd once seen on Lily's telly. Ignoring his friends rolled eyes, he eased the door closed and quickly coated the room in several different locking, silencing, and other such spy-proofing charms; hold-overs from the days of the Marauders.

"You've got the mirror?" Remus asked anxiously.

Sirius produced it from an inner pocket of his jacket. "Of course…I never go anywhere without it!"

"Good, good," Remus cast a glance at the clock on the wall, "any moment now. You've got the list?"

From a different pocket, he pulled a folded up bit of parchment. "Relax, Moony, it's not like we can't go grab something if we've forgotten it!"

Before Remus could respond, Harry's voice – slightly tinny sounding – spoke up from Sirius's right hand. "Sirius Black!"

_**

* * *

Meanwhile, In Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom.**_

"Harry, is that you?" his godfather's voice asked happily.

"Sirius!" Harry exclaimed with a smile, watching the man's slightly bedraggled face swim into view in the mirror.

He heard a scuffle coming from the other side of the mirror. "It's my mirror Moony!" Sirius's voice shouted.

"I just want to say hello!" Remus's voice retorted.

"You just did, now let go!"

"Not until you give me a moment to do it properly!"

"No! Now you leave off _my_ mirror!"

Harry couldn't help but laugh. Sirius's face suddenly reappeared – apparently he had been victorious – and he looked at him suspiciously. "Did you just laugh at us?"

"Yeah," Harry admitted without the slightest bit of contrition.

"Oh, good then!" the vaguely haggard looking man broke into a broad grin. Harry noticed that his eyes swiveled about curiously. "Merlin's balls, Harry…are you in a loo?"

"What's he doing in a loo?" Harry heard Remus ask incredulously.

"It's Moaning Myrtle's…it was the only place I could think of that no one ever comes."

"Not only is he in a loo," Sirius said proudly over his shoulder, "but he's in a _girls_ loo!"

Harry broke into another grin when he heard Remus sputtering in incoherent shock.

"So," Sirius began again, still grinning like mad, "how was your first day?"

Harry's stomach clenched, his mood immediately dampened. "Fine," he said sullenly.

Sirius's grin slipped a little. "That bad, huh?"

A long silence fell before a throat cleared and Harry heard Remus say, "Let's move on to happier things, shall we? Like what we set up this little meeting for in the first place."

Harry brightened somewhat, his attention brought back to the utter brilliance of the situation. He was going to find out what his animagus form was!

"Right," Sirius said, suddenly all business, "you brought your cauldron?" Harry nodded. "And your potions supplies?" He nodded again. "Good!" Harry heard a crinkling of paper, and then Sirius began to list off ingredients….a lot of ingredients…by the time he was done, Harry was staring at him, wide-eyed.

"You know, it's a wonder more people don't do this, all of the ingredients for the potion can be found in a third-year's potions kit," Sirius remarked curiously.

"More like three third-year's potions kits," Harry muttered too quietly for him to hear.

"Remember, stir clockwise five times, anti-clockwise five times, and then let it sit for five minutes. Repeat that process fifty-five times."

"But that's…" Harry paused for some quick mental calculations, "…that's four hours!"

"Closer to five, actually," Remus responded from behind Sirius.

"No pain, no gain, Harry," Sirius remarked. "If becoming an animagus was easy, everyone would do it!"

Harry simply sighed and began to mix the ingredients. The two remaining Marauders kept him company, carrying on a running conversation through the mirror and occasionally reminding him when it was time to stir the cauldron again. It was nearing one in the morning when his potion was finally the iridescent green that Sirius had told him to look for.

"I think it's done!" he exclaimed with a tired smile.

"Let's see it then, tip me down!" Sirius ordered. Harry angled his mirror enough for his godfather to see over the rim of the cauldron. "Yep, that's the puke-green we're looking for!"

"Well done, Harry!" Remus called.

"Now, what you want to do – and make sure you're sitting down for this, that's very important – is to ladle some into a flask…"

"Flask?" Harry interrupted, his voice sounding slightly panicked, "you didn't say anything about a flask!"

"I didn't?" Sirius asked bemusedly. "Odd…I could've sworn I did – ouch! That was uncalled for Moony!"

"I told you to tell him, I explicitly told you!" Harry could hear Remus ranting.

"Calm down, calm down, it's no big deal," Sirius soothed. "Now, Harry, just take a big gulp directly from the ladle…"

"You never mentioned a ladle either," Harry reminded him.

"Ouch! Dammit Moony!"

"You didn't even think to mention a ladle?"

"I assumed it was part of his everyday supplies!"

"Padfoot…if you've ruined this and we have to sit through another five hours of potions…" Remus left the threat hanging.

"I have a spoon, if that helps?" Harry interjected, attempting to save his godfather from certain death.

"Great!" Sirius shouted, his voice squeaking. "Hold it up and let me see it."

Harry dug around until he found the biggest spoon he carried.

"Oh yes, that'll do," Sirius said happily.

"It's not silver is it?" Harry shook his head negatively. "Good, this potion doesn't like silver one bit. Just gulp down three or four spoonfuls then."

Harry, his nerves causing his hand to shake just a little, swiftly scooped up a spoonful and shoved it in his mouth. Almost immediately, he began coughing and sputtering; he could hear Sirius and Remus laughing through the mirror.

"Did we forget to mention the wonderful rotten beef and expired milk after taste?" Sirius asked. Harry was too busy trying to scrub his tongue clean to respond.

_Just three more…_he tried to reassure himself. With a dirty look towards the mirror he took another gulp, managing a much more subdued coughing fit this time. _Two…_he counted. He took another gulp, this time with only one hacking cough. _Just one more, _he told himself bracingly. Finally, he took his last spoonful.

"D'you think he's done yet?" Remus's voice trailed through the mirror.

Harry couldn't hear it though. He was already passed out on the floor.

"I reckon so," Sirius said after a moment.

_**

* * *

Just North of London.**_

Nydia's legs set a steady pace in time with her breathing. She was starting to get a bad feeling about this; an undeniable sense of foreboding; the same feeling that had been driving her from place to place, one step ahead of danger.

It meant they were coming, she knew. It was always the same. The bad feelings would come, then so would the bad men, and she would have to run as fast as she could; just like when they came for her parents.

The forest passed around her in a blur, any of the usual noises that woodland creatures might make drowned out by her heavy breaths and the blood pounding in her ears.

A branch scratched her neck, another amongst the dozens she'd already accumulated in her mad dash.

This was taking a heck of a lot longer without any transportation, but she didn't have any money left and there were no convenient floos that she was aware of. Whatever it was she was striving for, it had better be worth all of this.

_**

* * *

Somewhere…**_

A dense, pearlescent fog surrounded him, reducing his visibility to practically nothing.

"Hello?" Harry called. This was a very…odd experience. Maybe he should've asked exactly what to expect before he swallowed that potion.

The fog caressed his skin, leaving trails of condensation. He shivered involuntarily. "Anyone?" he continued. "Oh bloody – what am I supposed to do now?"

He sat still for several moments, his mind racing over possible answers. Finally, once no real solution presented itself, he decided that there was nothing for it but to explore.

Wandering around with zero visibility wasn't the most pleasant experience in the world, he found. He tripped several times, over things that he could only see as shapeless blobs, disguised as they were by the fog. Once he noticed those smaller shapes, he began to pick out other blobs of all shapes and sizes around him. Some of them were moving…that part worried him a little.

A low rumbling noise started in his ears. As he moved along, it gradually crescendoed into a cacophony of bestial growls, hisses, and bird-like caws.

His nerves were growing more and more frayed with each passing moment.

"Sirius?" he called anxiously. "Remus?"

His only answer was a rather loud, high-pitched noise that sounded remarkably like a monkey.

Suddenly, a loud roar rent the air, causing Harry to jerk reflexively. When he settled, he found himself in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom once more.

"Harry? Harry!" Sirius voice called anxiously from the mirror laying face down on the floor. "Are you all right Harry? Can you hear me? Why did you yell?"

"You could've told me what was going to happen!" Harry hissed indignantly as he picked up the mirror.

"And ruin the surprise?" Sirius asked.

"What exactly did happen?" Remus' voice asked. "I don't recall you or James yelling when you took the potion, Padfoot."

"Yes, what did you see?" Sirius asked excitedly.

Harry struggled to find the proper description for a moment before he simply said, "Fog."

The Marauders remained silent for a moment, obviously expecting more. Finally, Sirius huffed irritably and prompted him, "Fog and…?"

"Just fog…and shapes, lots of shapes…and some animal noises."

Sirius looked incredibly confused. His face disappeared from the mirror and Harry heard the two mumbling out of sight for a few moments. He was starting to worry that he'd done something wrong. The longer they conferred, the more and more anxious Harry got. Just as he was preparing to interrupt them and demand some answers, Sirius' face appeared in the mirror again.

"You're absolutely certain that you didn't see anything more…defined, Harry?" he asked.

"Positive," Harry replied with a nod.

"Not even something really small, like an insect?"

"I…don't think so," and he very much hoped he hadn't just missed it…he wasn't sure how great being able to turn into a dung beetle would be.

"Well you've stumped us, then!" Sirius responded cheerfully.

Harry stared at him for a moment, his anxiety returning. What if he just couldn't do it?

"Not to worry," Sirius continued. "We'll try it again tomorrow night. Just sneak that potion back to your dorm and find something to store it in – make sure you charm it...wouldn't want all this work going to waste, eh? It should keep for quite a few days."

"I…you don't think that maybe I'm just not cut out to be an animagus, do you?" Harry asked nervously.

"No, Harry," Remus' voice interjected. "If you had no talent for it, the potion would have done nothing but leave a bad aftertaste. You wouldn't have passed out at all."

He breathed a sigh of relief. He was just starting to realize how much he wanted this; not just because it was completely and utterly cool, but because it would have made him feel closer to his father, after a fashion.

"We'll talk to you again tomorrow night, Harry," Sirius said reassuringly.

"Good night, Harry!" Remus called.

"Thanks, you two."

"Wouldn't rather be doing anything else," Sirius responded warmly before he waved into the mirror and disappeared.

Harry pocketed his mirror and shoved his ingredients back into his potions kit.

Then, he turned his attention to the cauldron…and back to his kit…and back to his cauldron again.

Normally, he would pack the relatively small cauldron in the kit as well, but that would result in a really foul smelling potion all over his supplies...but he couldn't carry them both separately.

He could just make two trips, but he was already out well past curfew…he really needed another pair of hands.

"Does Harry Potter need help with something?" squeaked a happy voice from behind him. Harry gave a startled shout and whirled to see a short figure with a long thin nose smiling up at him, practically bouncing.

"Dobby!"Harry said with a small smile. "How're you?"

"Dobby is wonderful," the little elf assured him. "Especially when someone so great as Harry Potter inquires after him!"

Harry did his best not to blush at that.

"Dobby was feeling that maybe Harry Potter is needing help?"

Harry nodded, relief flooding his system. "Yes, please! I needed someone to help me carry this back to Gryffindor Tower," he said, waving his hand at the cauldron and potions kit.

With a nod, Dobby snapped his fingers, levitating the cauldron a few feet off the ground. "Dobby is glad to help," the little elf suddenly seemed hesitant, "but he is wondering…why does Harry Potter not use his own magic?"

"_Are you a witch or not?"_ echoed through his head, engendering a mild surge of regret that Ron and Hermione weren't with him.

Pushing those feelings away, he grinned sheepishly at Dobby. "Would you believe that I hadn't even thought of that?"

"Oh, yes, Harry Potter," Dobby responded with a smile of his own, "Dobby's father told him many times, 'Dobby, sometimes wizards is having so much big and important to do that we is having to remind them of the little things'."

The next morning came far too early in Harry's opinion. He hadn't drifted off until well after three in the morning and it felt like no time at all had passed before Ron was shaking him awake again.

As it was, he spent so much time waking up and getting himself ready that Ron left without him, and he found himself making his way down to breakfast alone. By the time he was taking his customary seat next to his friends, he was in the early stages of a truly massive headache.

The fact that Ron and Hermione seemed to be in the middle of an argument certainly didn't help. It honestly eluded him how they could be great mates one moment, and at each other's throats the next.

"No. No way; isn't going to happen!" Ron was saying, gesticulating wildly with a spoonful of eggs in one hand and his pumpkin juice in the other. Harry didn't even flinch when he felt a glob of yolk splatter against his head.

"But it's so important, Ron!" Hermione retorted. "Don't you want to get a good job? Don't you want to be able to support your wife and children?"

Ron gaped across the table at her. "Wife and children? Hermione...we're fifteen years old!"

Hermione expelled a long suffering sigh. "It's never too early to start planning, Ronald."

A loaded plate slid to a stop in front of him, drawing his attention away from his arguing friends. "Eat your breakfast, Harry," Ginny said with a smile.

With a tired smile of his own, Harry did just that.

Breakfast ended, thankfully along with Ron and Hermione's argument (he had eventually figured out that Hermione was attempting to rope them into O.W.L. studies...again). Unfortunately, his headache refused to follow the trend –instead of ending, it only got worse.

By the time Transfiguration rolled around, he was on the verge of skiving off for a nap, or maybe asking to see Madam Pomfrey. He'd been absolutely awful in Charms, accidentally turning Ron's nose into a…well, it looked like a turtle's beak, but he couldn't really be sure. It took Professor Flitwick ten minutes, to fix it; the snapping noises had sounded particularly rude, poor Ron.

He winced when Professor McGonnagal shut the door far louder than he deemed necessary, and he almost groaned out loud when she began a speech about the importance of O.W.L.'s. He and Ron shared a commiserating look – Hermione was going to be even more unbearable.

Within minutes, Harry felt the pain in his head increase, and his concentration decreased accordingly. Instead of thinking about the similarities between transfiguring simple vertebrate animals and human beings, which was what McGonnagal was currently lecturing on, he found his mind wandering to a dark hall, long and foreboding, with a single door at the end.

"Mr. Potter, are you paying attention?" McGonnagal's unyielding voice interrupted harshly. She was giving him her piercing stare, the one usually reserved for those who irritated her. Oddly enough, he felt a surge of happiness and he did something incredibly stupid.

He laughed at her.

It wasn't much really, not a cackle or a guffaw, just a simple little chuckle, but it was enough to get the Transfiguration professor's nostrils flaring.

"Do you find something amusing about disrupting my class, Mr. Potter?" she asked tersely.

Rather than answer, Harry began to laugh louder. Several of his classmates looked at him askance and shifted away from him.

"Harry!" hissed Hermione.

"Mr. Potter!" McGonnagal admonished.

And then the pain came.

Someone had taken a large piece of glass and jammed it directly into his forehead, or, at least, that's how it felt. A familiar and entirely unwelcome voice echoed through his mind.

"_Bring…to me…mistakes…this time!" Voldemort hissed, a triumphant, and disturbing, smile on his face._

_A blurry figure, kneeling at his feet in a room that was entirely black, replied, "Yes…pleased…best of us…no problem."_

_The odd gaps in their conversation were really getting to him; it was very, very annoying._

"_Soon…packs will be…mine," Voldemort said to the now empty room. The foul, horrid thing began to cackle happily, and Harry knew no more._

_**

* * *

Meanwhile…**_

Tonks hummed one of her favorite tunes merrily to herself as she made her way down the path, unconsciously swinging her hips in rhythm. The gates of Hogwarts were already receding behind her.

The moment she passed the ward markers, she turned on the spot and disapparated.

When the darkness faded, she was facing the grimy, dirty front stoop of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. She rang the bell without a thought, and a few minutes later, a frazzled, apron-wearing Molly Weasley opened the door, glaring daggers at her.

"Oh no! I forgot about the bell!" Tonks said, smacking herself on the forehead. Over Molly's shoulder, the shouts of Sirius's dear old mum could be heard. Sneaking in around the plump Weasley matriarch, she apologized profusely as they both struggled to cover the noisy portrait back up.

"Sorry again," she said sincerely, once they had the ratty curtain pulled shut.

Mrs. Weasley huffed once before she waved it off and smiled wearily. "Not to worry dear, but do try and remember next time. I can only take so much of that woman's bigotry. Now, come in, you're just in time for breakfast!"

"Oh no," Tonks said, following behind her, "I can't eat another thing, just had breakfast at Hogwarts, after all." She patted her stomach contentedly. "Just wanted to get away from the school for awhile," she concluded breezily, skirting that evil umbrella stand and shooting it a triumphant look.

_Tonks 15; Umbrella stand 13! _she crowed mentally. This day was definitely looking up.

"You don't have any classes today?" Molly asked, opening the kitchen door and holding it for her.

Tonks shook her head, "Nope, not until this afternoon, anyway. I figure that with me being a professor now and all, I should take advantage of every opportunity to be irresponsible, before I get bogged down with the whole 'being an adult' thing and start telling kids off for being kids," she said with a devious smile.

"Yes...well..." Molly began uncomfortably. Apparently unable to think of something nice to say in response, she shuffled off towards the stove.

Sirius, Remus, Moody, and Kingsley were all spread out around the table, chomping down the breakfast spread as quickly as they could. Tonks sat down beside Remus and nodded at her cousin across the table. "Wotcher."

"Morning, Nymphy," Sirius said brightly. He apparently didn't notice her glare, so she shot him a quick stinging hex, just to be sure.

While Sirius was busy yelping and rubbing his…er…sensitive bits, she turned her gaze to Remus. He looked exceptionally haggard. There were dark circles under his eyes, his hair was in disarray, he obviously hadn't bothered to shave that morning, and he was only pushing his food around on his plate.

Noticing her gaze, he smiled tiredly. "Full moon tonight," he explained. She nodded sympathetically

"So," she said, attempting to brighten the mood, "how did our young Harry's 'lesson' go last night?" she asked. She hadn't bothered to moderate her volume, and she snickered when she heard Moody huff from his spot down the table.

Sirius shot Remus a significant look, but the werewolf simply rolled his eyes and said, "It was…odd." She watched him expectantly, waiting for more.

"Best to wait for more _private_ environs for the rest," Sirius said, leaning forward secretively. He nodded his head towards the stove, where Molly was still cooking up a storm. Tonks nodded her understanding with a frown – she hated not knowing something.

"So," Sirius began, shooting another significant look at his best friend, "how's Harry doing?" Remus snorted and rolled his eyes.

"He's fine," she said, looking back and forth between them in confusion. "Why?"

"Does a man need a reason to ask after his godson?" Sirius replied.

"No, I suppose not," she said uncertainly. _That was odd…_

The rest of the meal passed in much the same way. After nearly an hour full of many strange questions about Harry and significant looks, she was on the verge of hexing her cousin again. Remus seemed to find the whole thing amusing.

Eventually, the Marauders wandered up the stairs without her– something about 'Marauder business', leaving her at the table nursing a cup of tea that Molly had forced on her. Honestly, she suspected Sirius just wanted to leave her in suspense.

Ruddy berks had her all curious now – what the hell had all of that been about?

The clock was just chiming ten when Moody pushed back from the table, ending his conversation with Kingsley. Stumping over to her, he stopped and placed a gnarled hand on her shoulder.

"Can we talk in private, Tonksy?" he asked. She looked at him curiously and he jerked his head towards the stairs.

"Okay," she said, standing up and grabbing her tea. For some reason, she had a very bad feeling about this.

Moody led her upstairs and into a small room that used to be an office – currently it was full of boxes of unused stuff; old clothes and the like that weren't dangerous, but weren't necessarily useful anymore either.

He shut the door quietly and cast an imperturbable charm on it, made of circuit of the entire room checking for peepholes and the like, and then he clunked over and sat down heavily on a ratty old foot rest.

Tonks watched all of this curiously, taking sips of her tea occasionally. The grizzled old man seemed to be having an argument with himself now. After several minutes of silence, he finally spoke.

"This doesn't go beyond you and me for now, right?" he said, giving her a penetrating look. His magical eye was practically vibrating with tension.

"Sure," she agreed.

A light suddenly popped on in her head. "This is about Dumbledore isn't it? You're finally going to tell me what you were talking about the night we went to get Harry, right?" she babbled excitedly.

"Yeah," he said. Then he fell into silence again.

"Well?" she demanded.

Moody sighed, his jaw tightening under all the scars and lines on his face. "Well, I still don't have anything that you could really call 'proof'. It's all just a feeling, really," he temporized.

"Spit it out, Moody!" she said heatedly. Being anything but direct was entirely unlike Moody, and she'd had quite enough of people stringing her along today.

"I think Albus is up to something," he finally said.

"No, really?" she asked sarcastically. "Why?"

"Just things, really, you could call 'em clues, I suppose. An old friend mentions something here; I pick up a discrepancy there. Did you know that several Order members' medical records have been tampered with?" He paused long enough for her to shake her head.

"Agnus Wrent is in charge of the records. She's a healer, known her for years and she's _never_ been anything less than sharp; suddenly she can't remember things like she should; small things, simple things, they just won't come back to her.

"I've seen this kind of thing before, in people who've been obliviated once too often."

Tonks' bad feeling multiplied – she definitely didn't like where this was going. "You said records had been tampered with? How so?" she asked.

"That's just it, nothing important was messed with. Only reason Agnus could tell they were touched at all was because they weren't filed right," he growled.

"But how does the professor fit into this?" she asked.

"When she was telling me 'bout it, she mentioned how odd it was that Albus hadn't caught the culprit, considering the fact that he was talking to her during the only period of time it could've happened...he was there when it happened, and she's showin' all the signs of someone who's been obliviated."

Tonks was unconvinced. They were odd circumstances, yes, but that's all they were right now, circumstances. And Moody was known for being a little paranoid.

Apparently picking up on her lack of belief he continued to speak. "Look, there are other things that have been messed with. Things that only those with a helluva lot of clout had access to. Things so secret that I can't even tell you what they are! How many people do you know of that could pull this kinda stuff off?"

"But this is _Albus, _Moody! Dumbledore! You can't expect me to buy into the idea of him doing some seriously suspicious stuff with nothing but circumstantial evidence!"

The rough old ex-auror looked at her pensively. "I understand, Tonks, I honestly do, but the man is one of my closest friends, and I'm tellin' ya, something's off," he said with conviction.

She was still far from convinced, but the absolute earnestness of the man was getting to her. She'd known Moody for awhile now, ever since she started her auror training, and she'd never seen him this worked up over something.

"All right," she said, rubbing her temples, attempting to ease the approaching headache. "Let's say, hypothetically, that you're right and he is up to something – why suddenly bring me into this?"

"Because you're on the inside right now. You're teachin' at Hogwarts. So you're going to be around him every day. Keep an eye on him; watch out for anything odd and report it to me. I'll do the same."

Tonks heaved a sigh. That wasn't too much to ask, really, and he was one of her mentors. What could it hurt? And why the hell did her head hurt so much?

"Fine, fine," she said exasperatedly, "I'll watch the old man for you and let you know if anythings out of whack, but Moody, so help me, if I get into some kind of trouble for this, it's your manhood on the line. Got it?"

He grinned, his face twisting grotesquely, "Got it."

Her bad feeling suddenly peaked, along with her headache.

Moody's face turned concerned, near as she could tell. "Tonks?" he asked. She took a gulp of her tea in an attempt to calm her rising panic, but it didn't seem to help.

"Something's wrong!" she hissed, dropping her teacup with a crash, she clutched her head with both hands.

"What's happenin'?" he asked, lurching to his feet. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know!"she shouted. On the fringes of her consciousness she was aware that her hair was cycling wildly – pink, yellow, long, short, curly, straight, it just wouldn't sit still.

The pain in her head spiked so high that she was afraid she might pass out, and then, suddenly, it stopped. Her hair settled on shoulder length green and she just _knew _she had to get to Harry. Something was wrong with Harry.

She blasted right through the imperturbed door, leaving a gaping Moody in her wake, and sprinted down the rickety old stair case.

"Leaving already, Tonks?" Molly called as she sped through the kitchen. "Won't you...stay...for lunch?" she trailed off, the metamorph already sprinting down the hall.

She was through the front door before Mrs. Black's portrait could even register the ruckus, and with a pop, she was gone.

As soon as she apparated, she was running for the castle; she almost planted herself face first in her haste. She hit the huge double doors of the school running full tilt, barely acknowledging the sharp stab of pain as she shouldered them open; she was sure a bruise was already forming on her shoulder.

She murmured a brief thanks to the higher powers for small favors when the first person she spotted was one of Harry's fellow Gryffindors.

"You there! Longbottom!" she shouted, rushing towards him. Neville seemed slightly alarmed at the sight of her. "Where's Harry?"

"Huh-hah-Harry?" he stuttered.

"Yes, Harry Potter," she snapped. "Where is he?"

"He...wuh-well, he had sort of a fit..."

"WHERE?" she demanded, fear squeezing her gut tight.

"Hospital wing!" he squeaked.

And she was off like a shot, ignoring the surprised students murmuring around her.

She did actually fall on her face on her way up the stairs, but she didn't have time to worry about any pain, she just heaved herself up and pushed on, huffing and puffing the entire way.

It was taking too damn long! How much time had passed since she'd realized something was wrong?

Ten minutes? Twenty?

Damn the Hogwarts wards!

Harry needed her, something horrible was happening and she wasn't there! She turned a corner and bit back a groan. More stairs?

With a growl, she took them two at a time, not bothering to marvel at the fact that she made it without falling – quite an accomplishment for her.

Then she was running down a hall that seemed entirely too long.

Finally, she burst through the hospital wing doors, slamming them into their respective walls, and rushed towards the small gathering of people around a bed – Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Dumbledore.

"Now see here!" Madam Pomfrey scolded, shuffling out of her office. "I have patients here and-"

Whatever her patients had to do with anything, Tonks never found out. She brushed by the matron, ignoring her indignant squawks, and made her way to the bed she was sure Harry was in. Those gathered watched her, dumbfounded.

She paid them no mind, the entirety of her focus was pulled to the young man under the covers. He looked oddly peaceful, like he was just taking a nap – it reminded her of the first time she'd seen him sleep; in the early morning after a nightmare-filled night, having a conversation in front of the fire. She'd thought he'd fallen asleep just to escape her interrogation.

"He was having some sort of seizure or fit or something, up until a few minutes ago; then he just relaxed," Hermione told her, her voice thick with tears.

Tonks nodded mutely. Everything inside of her that had been screaming to get to Harry quieted down and she could hear herself think again. It was that, more than anything, that assured her that everything was okay. "Why hasn't he woken up, then?" she asked.

Madam Pomfrey, glaring daggers at her, nevertheless answered her question, "I'm not sure. As far as I can tell, there isn't anything actually _wrong_ with him, aside from the obvious – he won't wake up." She paused significantly and shared a worried look with Dumbledore.

"There have been odd cases like this before; a patient slips into a deep sleep and can't be woken – a coma. There's really no telling when, or if, he'll wake up." Madame Pomfrey seemed to take it as a personal insult that she couldn't cure him.

Hermione sobbed harder and Ron gasped at the thought of his best mate trapped in his own body for the rest of his life. Ginny simply paled, shaking with silent sobs.

Tonks, on the other hand, tightened her hands into fists angrily and continued to stare at Harry's sleeping face.

_He _will_ be okay, _she thought firmly. _He has to be..._

* * *

Unfortunately, the weeks that passed proved her to be a liar. Harry didn't so much as twitch an eyelash. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Harry's other friends moped around all day, ignoring questions from professor and student alike. Snape had taken dozens of points from them, and not even Hermione seemed bothered by it.

As for Tonks herself, she wandered in a daze. It worried her honestly; the way things had happened. How did she know something was wrong? Why did she react so...violently? She cared for Harry, obviously, and felt no shame in admitting that a fifteen year old young man was fast becoming a close friend...but the intensity of her reaction seemed beyond the pale.

Nowadays, she felt like she was totally disconnected – like someone had dipped her in anesthesia and she had gone totally numb. She didn't put much effort into teaching, her appearance had become drab and dull – short brown hair and slate gray eyes – and she spent a fair amount of her free time with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny around Harry's bed.

Time passed dreadfully slow, it seemed. The weather gradually turned cool, and suddenly Halloween had popped up on her out of thin air. She didn't even realize what day it was until she saw a subdued Hagrid carrying cages of bats into the Great Hall.

Her fifth year class that day was especially glum. Ron and Hermione seemed even more morose than usual.

When she asked Ginny about it in her next class, she told her that Halloween of their first year was when they all really became friends, so it meant a little more to them.

Tonks thought she understood; holidays without your loved ones could be very depressing.

She felt she understood even more when she sat down to the feast that night and saw everyone enjoying themselves around her.

She wasn't foolish enough to believe that Harry was universally popular, but she had thought more people would've been upset at the news of his condition. However, most seemed to expect it.

It was unclear to her exactly why. At first she thought that maybe, since he seemed to have something similar happen to him at least once a year, it was just something everyone had learned to expect and deal with, but as time dragged on and she started to hear a growing number of whispers in the classroom and halls, she came to a painful and irritating conclusion – most people seemed to believe that his coma was a direct result of the 'psychosis' they had read so much about in the Prophet.

The first time she heard some smarmy little third year Ravenclaw say that, she nearly pulled her wand and hexed the little idiot. Instead, she had to settle for giving him a detention for talking during her class.

Several detentions later, she had started an all out war on anyone who believed the absolute rubbish in the papers.

Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson had to learn the hard way not to push her; when they continued to make snarky comments after their third collective detention, she pulled them up in front of the class for a 'demonstration', Malfoy was still speaking several octaves higher than normal, and Parkinson had yet to figure out that her acne problems weren't a natural occurrence.

In the end, it did little to make her feel better. Nearly two months later, and here she sat, pushing her pumpkin pie around on her plate and trying to ignore how happy everyone else was.

It left a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach...

Or...wait...this was something different...

Her eyes shot open wide as she recognized the it; the dark, foreboding feeling she'd gotten just before Harry collapsed.

Something deep inside told her to move, as fast as she could.

Just as she jumped to her feet, a deafening howl rumbled through the great hall. Several of the younger students screamed in fright – some of the older ones looked around eagerly, wondering what new entertainment the Hogwarts staff had cooked up for them this year.

Tonks was through the doors of the Great Hall and on her way to check on Harry before anyone else on the staff had even made it to their feet. Immediately after she cleared the doors, she ran into something solid and wound up in a heap on the floor, watching the retreating back of the last person she expected to see as he sprinted out the castle doors and into the crisp evening air.

"Harry?"

_**

* * *

October 31**__**st**__**, 1995, 5:30 p.m.**_

She could hear them behind her, shouting to each other – answering calls came from all sides, except for in front of her; thankfully, she was still ahead of them.

But they were gaining on her, trying to hem her in.

Fortunately, something was different about this forest, several of the bad people chasing her had screamed, and she'd noticed a drop in the number of pursuing voices. Oddly enough, whatever it was that was stopping them was leaving her alone.

Scents assailed her from every direction – the sweat pouring off her own small body; hair, fur, and blood; and buried underneath it all, drawing her on like a fish on a hook, was the smell of her mother's favorite drink...coffee, that was what she called it – coffee and polish and leather and something vaguely fruity, like strawberries. It was the scent she'd been following for months now.

She had zigged and zagged once in a while, trying to throw off pursuit, but instinct always pulled her back to that scent, so very faint at first, almost too faint to follow. Now, it threatened to bowl her over.

She was close; nearing the end of the imaginary thread she'd been chasing.

But every step she took was another second lost...and the sun was setting.

"She's there!" a rough voice shouted. "Circle 'round! I SAID CIRCLE AROUND DAMMIT! You're gonna lose her!"

Several large bodies crashed through the underbrush around her and she tried to coax another burst of speed out of her tired legs.

She shrieked when a grey haired man with a scar bisecting his nose popped up in front of her.

"Gotcha!" he shouted.

She ducked under his arms, causing him to overbalance, and broke out into her loping stride again.

"Douglas, you oaf! You had her!"

Thinking on her feet, she grabbed a branch as she passed, pulling it along with her as far as it would go before she let it swing back full force. A tired yet satisfied smile broke out on her face when she heard a startled yelp.

If she wasn't so scared, this might be fun.

The trees around her were starting to thin noticeably, and she could see the men around her quite clearly now. Five were still chasing her.

She heard a few murmured words and a bright red beam of light shot over her shoulder, leaving a small scorch mark on a nearby tree. Her father had done similar things; she knew it was magic. She just didn't know what it did, and she was sure she didn't want to find out.

The next time she heard one of them mutter something, she rolled to the right, pleased when she heard them shout angrily.

Another mutter from behind and another quick dodge on her part.

It became almost routine, ducking and dodging, scooting under branches and over rabbit holes. She was so caught up in her rhythm that she failed to notice the sunlight fade completely.

When she felt the light from the full moon wash over her, her heart beat picked up into a frantic pace, even as she felt invigorated.

The sounds of pursuit faded, and she heard various snaps and cracks and grunts of pain behind her.

_Not good!_

There was no way she'd be able to escape now – there was too much ground left to cover!

A loud snarl knifed directly into her nerves, sending her breath into an unstable, alarmed cadence. She could hear them moving again, at a much quicker pace.

Four legs tended to move you along faster than two, after all.

"Leave me alone!" she shouted in her native tongue. "Please!"

The only response was the loud snapping of jaws at her heels. She surged again, her muscles burning with the need for oxygen, but her fear pushing her on.

She heard it's heaving breaths just before another furry monstrosity slammed into her from the side. She tumbled and rolled, squeaking with fright.

When she righted herself, she was on her bum, staring at a large castle, majestic in the moonlight. However, her attention was quickly grabbed by the five growling wolves that circled her.

"Please," she whimpered again, sure that they couldn't understand, but desperate to make them.

The largest one, clearly the leader, moved forward slowly and gently wrapped his jaws around her leg.

"No! Don't!" she begged.

With a slight jerk, he started to drag her off, his pack-mates following behind dutifully.

Her heart, already beating a hundred miles a minute, doubled it's pace, and suddenly she could hear the tiniest things, like the blades of grass bending under their feet; she could see each individual strand of fur in their pelts – it was almost too late.

"Please," she whispered one more time, almost inaudibly, "I don't want to hurt you..."

Her plea was ignored.

The lead wolf let out a startled yelp when he was jerked to a stop. Nydia's leg yanked itself forcefully from his jaws.

"Too late," she growled sadly, pushing herself up to her knees.

Whimpering painfully, she double over and clutched her arms around herself. She closed her eyes, hoping vainly that when she opened them again she would wake from a nightmare.

No such luck.

Her body cracked and creaked, elongated and expanded. All of her senses doubled in intensity and sharpness, and then doubled again.

When her eyes opened again, she towered above her assailants, and her thoughts had ceased to hold any sway over her. They were locked away, kicking and screaming, behind her instincts.

These things...they chased her...wanted to stop her...hurt her...she had to defend herself and make sure they never threatened her again!

With a snarl, she leapt upon the leader before any of his dumbfounded comrades could react, rolling him onto his back and fastening her powerful jaws to his throat. She could feel his shallow breaths and panicked twitching; she could hear his frightened whimpers and the rapid beating of his scared little heart. Weakling.

A quick snap of her head, a sharp jerk, the sound of ripping flesh and muscle, and she pulled back, taking his throat with her.

That roused his fellows out of their shock, and with angry growls, the battle began in earnest.

Nydia fought like a force of nature. She didn't flinch when their claws raked at her flanks and down her legs – she just retaliated with her own. She didn't bark back when they snarled and snapped at her – noise was a cowards tool, she didn't need it.

She felt another pair of jaws latch on to her right hind-leg, trying to pull it out from under her, and she kicked, dislodging him when she struck his nose smartly.

The smallest one, with a familiar scar bisecting it's snout, was her next victim. He came in high, hoping to unbalance her, so she ducked low and dragged her razor sharp four inch long claws along the exposed flesh of his soft underbelly.

He went down with a sharp yelp, his intestines spilling out.

She snarled triumphantly and turned to face the remaining three. Maybe these three could challenge her. It had been pathetically easy so far.

They approached her much more cautiously this time, fanning out and attempting to use their greater numbers to their advantage.

Nydia huffed indignantly – the cretins were acting like they stood a chance – she was the alpha, she was the power here, and once she started, _nothing_ could stop her.

Once they had formed a triangle around her, the one directly in front of her pounced; the distraction. With an almost casual ease, she leaned to the left, opened her massive jaws, and latched onto his foreleg at the shoulder. The rest of his body, continuing it's forward progress, left his leg behind.

That was another one down, yowling in pain.

She spat the bleeding appendage out just in time to be bowled over from behind. She had forgotten the whole point of the distraction: to allow the other two to strike from the rear.

As they rolled, a sharp, rending pain flared in her right shoulder and she looked down to see a large chunk of her own flesh hanging from one of her opponents' mouth.

Whimpering, she forced herself to focus, using her roll to throw the one on her back off of her, and landing on top of the one who'd taken a bite out of her, baring her teeth and glaring into his eyes.

One giant paw pressed his chest down, holding him steady, and the other landed softly on the right side of his snout. Then, it pushed to the left as fast as she could manage, snapping his neck with a loud crack.

She looked up in time to see the final wolf's tail disappearing into the forest.

She had won!

As the adrenalin wore off, she started to shift back to her normal state. Conscious thought reasserted control and her stomach twisted as she took in what she had done. Rearing back on hind legs that were rapidly turning into her own normal thin ones, she flung her head back and let loose a haunted howl that shook the very world around her.

A howl that transformed, along with her, into a wail of pain before she passed into exhaustion induced slumber as a tiny, eleven year old girl.

* * *

**A/N: I LIVE AGAIN!**

**I'm not going to apologize for having to take care of real life first, but I am very sorry that you guys had to wait - I know how annoying that can be. Hopefully this chapter is sufficient penance? It felt a little rushed to me when I got done, but after editing it, I think I'm pretty happy with it.**

**A minor plot point clarification for you - the five werewolves chasing Nydia were, in fact, on the wolfsbane potion (hence the fighting as a group and attempting to capture her instead of kill). I just didn't think you guys would want to read a scene whose sole purpose was to show five people you've never met before - and therefore don't really care about - drinking a potion. That's what A/N's are for :)**

**This chapter was a pain to write. I rewrote Tonks' reaction to Harry's collapse a couple of times, because at first it was entirely too romantic for this stage of their relationship, and then it was way too calm - hopefully I got it right in the end. Either way, we're getting into the meat of the story now, so things should flow much easier, and the next chapter will hopefully be out a lot quicker (extra emphasis on "hopefully"). For my writing progress, check my profile or my homepage. If you want some interaction with me, I've set myself up a myspace page for that exact purpose, just search for "TgCid24" and you should get me.  
**

**That's it - read, review, give me suggestions on what I can do better (as long as they aren't phrased as commands). I hope you enjoyed!**

**See ya next chapter!**

**Cid  
**


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